Magnificent Shades of Grey
by sleepyowlet
Summary: Ananké Inverres, a young artist from Alderaan, finds out that she's the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the Empire and struggles to survive in a world of intrigue and backstabbing. Not a Mary Sue. Appearances by: Tarkin, Vader, Thrawn...
1. Prologue

Title: Magnificent Shades of Grey

Disclaimer: Not mine. No profit. Feel free to use my original characters, just let me know.

Genre: A life story

Rating: Dunno. PG 13, I suppose. May go up later.

Author's notes: I guess it's going to be pretty long, and it will take a while to be written. Bear with me. I try to stick as close to cannon as possible, but I'll probably have to twist a few things to fit my ends.

**Magnificent Shades of Grey**

Prologue

Livia ran. Careful not to use the Force she jumped from one shadow to another, clutching a small bundle to her chest, making her way through the temple, trying to escape unnoticed. Trying to escape the horrid _thing_ that was hunting down the ancient order she once had belonged to and that had called her back from her partially self-imposed exile in these times of need. Now, she tried to leave as quietly as she had come. There had been rumours that the new Emperor had allied himself with the Sith, and now these rumours were confirmed. The temple was being ravaged. She could hear the shouts of the fighting and the screams of the dying. The hum of the light sabres was loud in her ears. Deep in her heart she felt that she should stay and fight like the others. But she had to save her child. A wry grin stole itself on her face. 

The Jedi Council had exiled her when she had fallen in love and chosen to follow the object of her affections, forbidding her to use her powers or to carry a light sabre. She didn't miss her weapon, but the ban concerning her Jedi abilities had cut right to her heart, because she was an extremely talented healer. The knowledge that she was able to help but forbidden to do so was a cruel punishment. And the council was well aware of that fact. But then a mysterious warrior had started to hunt them down and suddenly she was called back to help the wounded. She had been reluctant to follow that call, but the chance to help others in a way she had been unable to for such a long time had prompted her return. Her new quarters were in the students section – another blow against her pride, she was back but still not acknowledged as a Jedi – but that was why she was still alive, the attackers went right to the Jedi's quarters. So she was able to slip away unnoticed. To save her child. Yes, her loyalty belonged to her little daughter, not to the Order. Maybe the Council was right for banning her. 

So the Emperor wanted the Jedi dead. Dead or turned to the dark side. Livia thought about her lover. She would miss him, but he was a loyal servant of His Majesty, so she had to leave him too.

She had reached her skiff and initiated the take off sequence. She had to leave and to hide herself. But where?


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ananké jerked awake. Oh, the passenger ship would leave hyperspace any minute now. It was definitely too late for regrets, but Ananké still wasn't sure if she had made the right decision in coming to Coruscant, no, Imperial Centre, as it was called now. She swallowed nervously. She had seldom left her home planet Alderaan, and now she moved to this foreign, hectic planet. But her teachers had said that was the only way she'd be successful. She had to move herself and her art there, where the money was. And though the ruling class of the Empire may lack many things, money wasn't among them. But would her paintings please? They were not made to be decorative, they had a meaning and were deeply emotional.

She sighed. Her mentor, Estiphe Cheroder, who had raised her since her mother(')s death, was set against this plan from the beginning. She said that Coruscant would stain her soul, whatever that meant. Estiphe was a gentle soul, but if anything was against her morals, she'd become as hard as durasteel. They had not parted on the best of terms, but she had helped Ananké to find an appropriate living space in one of the better quarters of the planet-wide city.

She stood and went to one of the windows. The moment they left hyperspace, Coruscant appeared before her eyes.

It was a breathtaking sight. They were at the night side at the moment and the planet did its name justice, it glowed like one of the rare Corusca stones.

As they drew nearer she could see the countless other ships flitting here and there on seemingly chaotic courses and two Star Destroyers looming over all the traffic. The passenger ship threaded itself into a long line of other ships as it started to land. Ananké could see the huge buildings now, and the imperial palace in the distance. It was hard to miss, it was the biggest building on the planet.

Eventually they touched down at one of the spaceports. And the passengers started to leave the ship. Ananké was careful not to lose any of her luggage, various odds and ends she didn't trust the transport enterprise, which her mentor had hired to get the rest of her belongings to her new home, to handle. 

When she had left the spaceport, Ananké stood in a daze for a while. In all of her eighteen years she had not seen such a chaos. And it was simply too loud. It would take a while, she thought wryly, to get used to this. And there were military personnel everywhere. At Alderaan there barely were any, they simply were not needed, but here, white, grey and black uniforms everywhere. They didn't make Ananké feel secure, they simply made her uneasy.

At last she found a taxi to get her to her flat. It was a rather long ride. Most of the flight was automated and she spent her time with looking out of the window trying to commit the route to her memory. It was pointless. If any city were built to get lost in, she thought, this would be it.

Her flat was a disappointment. Two rooms, big windows, but the flat was so low in the building that there would be only a few hours of sun per day. The furniture was nondescript, only the things she had brought from Alderaan livened up the dreary steel grey.

She decided to use one room as atelier, the other for living and sleeping. There was no space for entertaining guests anyway. On Alderaan, apartments were spacy and well lit, with big windows that could be opened to let in the breezes from the lush grasslands. A quick test proved the windows of her new home unopenable. Well, there was no reason to let in the foul city air in anyway. 

She looked out of the window.

The little patch of sky that was visible from here had a dull grey colour, and speeders flit across it where the majestic Tharanthas, huge flying animals that were filled with a lighter-than-air gas and had huge wings to propel them forwards, ruled the endless blue of Alderaan.

Again she asked herself how she could ever be happy on the centre world of the Empire.

She already missed her best friend, a talented grass-painter named Ob Kaddaar. He had a quirky, slightly confused way to make every situation seem better, an optimist who just wanted to transform wide plains of grassland into beautiful artworks. He always said that beauty could be found everywhere, you just had to know where to look.

Ananké sighed and started to set up her easel. She might as well use the time she had before meeting with the owner of the gallery she had sent her art to.

*****

Next morning she decided to get something other to eat than the storable food she brought from Alderaan and went through the computer directories to find a restaurant near the gallery.

Ah yes, "Gendric's" sounded good. It offered a wide range of cuisines, Alderanian among others, that was good, because she didn't feel like experimenting at the moment. And the gallery was practically next door.

Ananké dialled it up, made a reservation and called a taxi.

Gendric's was well frequented by the rich kids of Coruscant, she noticed. A waiter droid lead her to her table and gave her the menu.

"Hi, can I sit here?", a voice disrupted her study of the same. Ananké looked up and saw a tall girl in a very colourful outfit, but that wasn't all, her hair seemed to be dyed in all colours that existed. Interesting.

"Certainly," Ananké said, gesturing to the other seat at the small table.

"Thanks, I'm Therana Iskranfe, and you?"

"Ananké Inverres. I'm from Alderaan."

"Oh, are you new here?"

"I arrived yesterday. What do you do?"

Therana shrugged.

"I study, but other than that I just laze around. My father's a Moff in the Outer Rim, he's filthy rich. What do your parents do?"

Ananké looked down at the table.

"Since my mother died I was raised by her best friend, Estiphe Cheroder, she's a politician in Crevasse city. And I know nothing about my father. Not even who he was, Estiphe never talked about him, so I guess he's dead too, or maybe it's so bad that I'm better off not knowing."

"Oh I'm sorry, didn't mean to pry. So, what are you going to take?"

"The Crevasse Grazer ragout. I've always liked that back home."

"So it's good? I've never had it before, even when I was on Alderaan a few years ago. Didn't see much of it, we only stayed in Aldera. That city is so beautiful! If your home city is as pretty, I'd never have left in your place."

"Yes, Crevasse City is amazing. It's integrated into a huge network of natural canyons, so it doesn't stand out like Aldera does. You can't really see it until you come into a canyon. It's a bit of a Labyrinth, but nothing compared to this monstrosity of a city here."

The waiter droid came back and Ananké ordered her ragout, Therana decided to try it too.

"Yeah, Coruscant is pretty confusing. Why did you come here? Are you a student?"

Ananké shook her head.

"No, I finished my studies a while ago. I'm an artist, and one of my teachers sent works to the Tixor gallery, and Tixor agreed to exhibit them. So I came."

Terana's eyes got as big as saucers.

"Tixor is going to exhibit your paitings? Wow, you must be really good! He only takes the best, you know. My father drags me to the openings whenever he's here."

"Oh. So the gallery is well frequented?"

"You bet! All the imperial dignitaries meet there. And the exceedingly rich. Inspector Isard comes to every opening, sometimes even Lord Vader comes to look at the art."

Ananké couldn't think of anything to say.

They were served their food.

"Hm, this is really brilliant, I need to get the recipe for our cook at home," Therana said between two mouthfuls. Ananké just nodded absently. She had had no idea that the gallery had such a prominent clientele.

"Are you here to talk to Tixor today?"

"Yes, I am."

"Be careful. He's a Falleen. And he's creepy. So, are you free tomorrow?"

"I guess so," Ananké said with a shrug.

"How about a tour of the planet? I'll show you all the important places."

Ananké smiled.

"Yes, I'd like that."

She looked at her Chrono.

"Oh dear, I'm going to be late!"


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Yes, this was the perfect way to show the paintings, thought Tixor, as he finished moving the spotlights, they would fetch a handsome price. The artist who had painted them was a favourite of the high society of Coruscant, Inspector Isard seemed to like his paintings in particular. Yes, this evening's opening was going to be a great success.

But this fame could not last forever, that was why he had agreed to host an exhibition of this little prodigy from Alderaan in a few weeks.  She was already on Coruscant and had called him for an appointment to get to know him and his gallery.

Ah, this must be her, the Falleen thought, and what an exquisite creature, for a human, that is. She was rather small and birdlike in her looks and movements, with large, grey eyes that gave her an innocent expression and long reddish hair. His powerful if distant cousin and patron Xizor would certainly be interested; he just had to arrange a meeting. Maybe to the opening of her exhibition?

After watching her for a few minutes he decided to greet her.

"Ah, welcome, you must be Ananké Inverres, am I right," he asked with his most charming smile. Oh how prettily she blushed.

"Yes, thank you for agreeing to a meeting on such short notice, you must be very busy with the preparations for the opening" she answered politely, shaking his hand. Oh and so well spoken too. Yes, his cousin would be charmed.

"Not at all, my dear, I just finished. Let me show you around."

She nodded and he led her through the exhibition rooms pointing out to her where he planned to hang her paintings. They were not bad, but she could never compare to the Falleen art on his home planet.

"This room would be perfect for the Lyrill Mistweaver cycle, no? What a lovely idea to illustrate this old legend," he said when they arrived in a more dimly lit, circular room that presently held paintings of the Coruscant skyline by yet another artist.

"Yes, Lyrill Mistweaver was always a favourite of mine. I wanted to paint her story since I was little and my mother used to tell them to me. Long before I came to Alderaan. I'm surprised you know the story," she said with a little wistful smile.

"Oh, after seeing your wonderful paintings, I simply had to read it," he flattered, touching her shoulder.

She recoiled slightly.

"Oh, tha…that is quite the compliment," she stuttered with a nervous smile.

So she was a shy one. The shy ones always were fun to chase.

"So, do you have any questions?"

"No, not at the moment."

"Very well, I look forward to working with you. You'll see, your paintings will be successful. The three days we have will be gone before you know it."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"And I would be pleased to see you at the opening this evening."

"Yes, I'll consider it."

He bowed and kissed her hand.

"It's been a pleasure to meet you."

*****

On her way out Ananké had to resist the urge to wipe her hand at her clothes. What a creep. Not that she had anything against aliens (people on Alderaan were not as prejudiced as those on Coruscant) but she couldn't help but despise him. She wondered what he was planning. He wouldn't be so magnamonious to cut short an exhibition of another (and better established) artist for some green face from Alderaan without hidden motive.

She didn't know much about the Falleen; the xenosocial component of schooling was cut short since the raise of the New Order, but she could recall, that they were a race of schemers who thought themselves above the other beings in the galaxy. But what that meant for her situation, she didn't know. How could he profit from her, the obvious financial way aside. She had no connections, no money, well, not much anyway, only her art. And she doubted his beautiful words, the Falleen were not exactly known for their displays of emotion and they scoffed on such in others.

Well, it would come to light soon enough.

*****

The gallery was crowded. It had seemed so huge when she had been alone with the owner, but now it seemed to small, too cramped to breathe.

There was a big foyer where the refreshments were placed. There were delicacies from all over the galaxy, even Nerf-medallions from Alderaan. On both sides of the foyer were the exhibition rooms with the works of the two Coruscant artists.

She had opted on formal wear from Alderaan, the simple but elegant lines of the flowing dress contrasted sharply with the elaborate outfits of the high society ladies. She was blatantly stared at but not spoken to, so she pretended to admire the paintings and watched the dignitaries surrounding her.

They all seemed to know each other, exchanging greetings with shark-like smiles, forming groups committing to memory who stood where and who spoke to whom. Nobody cared much about the paintings, how different from similar occasions on Alderaan, where the visitors discussed the paintings enthusiastically.

Ananké hid in one of the more dimly lit smaller rooms and felt like a fish-bat in a lamp shop.

"Ah, here you are," the voice of Tixor interrupted her thoughts. She turned and saw the owner of the gallery with another Falleen.

"Allow me to introduce my illustrious cousin, Xizor."

"Pleasure," Ananké said with a strained smile.  She didn't like the way he was looking at her. Oh, he was handsome, in fact his appearance was bordering on beautiful, the colour of his skin seemed a little warmer then Tixor's emerald green, his shiny black hair was in a topknot ponytail. But even on Alderaan there had been rumours. Rumours about his involvement into criminal organisations like the Hutt cartel or the Black Sun. He was impossibly rich and surrounded himself with luxury.

And right now he seemed to be set on conversing with her.

"Ah, Miss Inverres, Tixor has told me so much about you. You are from Alderaan, tell me, how do you like Coruscant?"

He certainly was less offensive then Tixor.

"Oh, it's loud, it's dirty and there are simply too many people here," she answered honestly, belatedly noticing that she sounded like a country bumpkin. She blushed.

"I'm sorry, that came out c-completely wrong," she tried to amend, cursing her stutter. It resurfaced when she was stressed or embarrassed.

"No no, I quite agree, it isn't the most pleasant of places," he said with a gentle smile.

Had she thought him offensive? What was there to dislike, he certainly seemed very friendly, and oh, he was so handsome, suddenly she noticed the amazing colour of his eyes, a deep lavender. And the tiny scales of his skin seemed so soft…

She noticed that he had spoken and heard only the end of his last sentence.

"…and so I escape as often as possible to my skyhook."

Ananké could only nod.

"Would you like to see it sometime?" the Falleen purred.

"That would be nice," she whispered smiling. Ananké became aware of her arousal, she honestly didn't know how long she would be able to construct whole sentences. Sweat drops started to form on her forehead.

"Forgive me my dear, you look thirsty, I'll get you something to drink."

Ananké wanted to protest that she wasn't thirsty at all, but he was already gone.

Somebody pressed a glass into her hands. He couldn't be back already, could he?

She looked up and instead of lavender eyes she looked into glowing red ones.

"Believe me if I say that you'll want to stay away from Prince Xizor," the man said in a cool, cultured voice.

"What do you mean?"

He gently took her arm, leading her away from the room.

"I think you just need a breath of fresh air."

In her flustered state, she couldn't resist as he steered her through the foyer to the balcony. She was dimly aware that the whispering around her stopped and began with renewed force louder than before.

Outside she involuntarily took a deep breath. After a few minutes just breathing she collided head on with the realisation of how she had acted the last half an hour. She had made an utter and complete fool out of herself. Groaning in embarrassment she touched her forehead to the top of the banister.

"How did that happen?"

"It's a little known fact that the Falleen can emit pheromones that make them positively irresistible."

She had completely forgotten that she wasn't alone. She got upright again and turned around. It was slowly growing dark. He was tall, dressed in a dark blue suit and would have looked completely human, if it hadn't been for his pale blue skin and red eyes. They actually glowed in the dark.

"Pheromones! Is the emission voluntary?"

"They can control it, yes."

"That…that sneak!"

She was angry now, embarrassment forgotten. Her companion tactfully changed the topic.

"I can't remember seeing you before. My name is Thrawn, by the way."

"I'm Ananké Inverres, an artist from Alderaan. Thank you for saving me. Oh no, now I sound like the damsel in distress," Ananké said grimacing.

"I must admit, I don't look like your average knight in shining armour," Thrawn said with a hint of self-irony.

Ananké shrugged her shoulders.

"Now I know at least why Tixor was so friendly towards me. That it wasn't my paintings he liked I knew right from the beginning."

"Will they be exhibited here?"

"Yes, the opening will be in three days. I hope."

"I have always liked Alderaan art. It's so simple, yet complex in its meaning. You can look at the masterworks a thousand times and you will still find new things to think about."

Ananké was surprised. Somebody who took art seriously. Must be the only one here, she thought.

"Tell me, what do you think of the paintings showed today?"

"They are… empty somehow. Nice to look at, decorative, yes, but they lack something. I don't know. A soul, a spark maybe. The paintings are pleasant, but not beautiful."

Thrawn nodded.

"Yes, I noticed the same thing. Why do you think they are so empty?"

Ananké thought for a while. She almost felt like she was back home, disputing with one of her teachers.

"Maybe it's this place, it's so cold, so dead. I've felt it when I arrived. There are to many people here and not enough of anything else that is living."

She was close to saying that the restrictions the Emperor put on art and literature were possibly at fault too. But that would be an impossibly stupid thing to say here.

Thrawn raised his eyebrows as if he read her mind.

"You don't like it here?"

"Not particularly, no. Well, you saw what almost happened," she answered with a nervous smile.

"You really should be more careful in the future. I look forward to seeing your paintings."

He gave her a little half smile and left. Well, maybe Coruscant wasn't so bad after all. She blushed slightly when she realized that she wouldn't mind seeing her mysterious rescuer again.

She took another breath of air looking at the millions of lights.

"Wow, Ananké!"

She turned around.

"Hello, Therana."

The girl leant against the banister.

"Come on, spill!"

Ananké shot her friend a confused look.

"What were you doing with Admiral Thrawn?"

Ananké blinked.

"Admiral?"

Therana looked at her disbelievingly.

"You really have no clue, do you? He's the only alien in the navy. In spite of that he rose in ranks rather quickly, he's said to be a real genius, if a bit of a cold fish. Doesn't talk much, certainly not to the likes of me. So, what did he want?"

Ananké was stunned. An admiral. For the second time this evening her forehead hit the top of the banister.

"I've made an utter and complete fool out of myself twice on one evening."

"Oh dear. Come on, I'll get you home and you can tell me everything."


	4. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thank you, Neila Nuruodo, for betaing! The Lyrill Mistweaver tale is mine and you may not use the tale or parts of it without my permission. Enjoy anyway!

owlet

Chapter 3

Ananké wasn't in the best of moods when she had her breakfast the following morning. Therana had giggled the whole evening over the first-Xizor-then-Thrawn incident. Ananké had not been amused, she didn't like to be fooled around with or to be treated like a plaything. The hairs on her back stood on end when she thought about her own exhibition. She could just hope that they would forget about her until then. Therana said that there was little chance of that; the thing with Xizor would be forgotten quickly, that was true, as he changed his companions every few months, but since Admiral Thrawn had never shown interest in any female, his dragging her to the balcony was bound to be remembered for a while, especially since she was human and he was … not.

The door chime hummed and she looked up.

Oh yes, Therana had promised to give her the big tour.

Oh joy, more giggling.

*****

Therana looked at her new friend as she steered her flashy speeder home from Monument Park. They had visited almost every famous place or museum on Coruscant and Ananké was still sulking. She sighed and concentrated on driving again. Well it was like that on Coruscant, the mighty used the lowly to their amusement, and there wasn't much the less fortunate could do about it, besides becoming powerful themselves. And Ananké just wasn't made for this game. She was way too sensitive. Maybe that was an artist-thing.

But she treated her like a person and not like a figure in a chess game, as her parents always did. The only thing her parents cared about was that she didn't get into trouble, because that would reflect badly on the family name. She snorted, as if anyone would care, really, it wasn't as if they were an important family. They stemmed from nowhere near the core. A fact they constantly tried to make people forget.

"What's nagging you?", she asked, exasperated.

"I'm still embarrassed," Ananké muttered.

"Oh get over it already. So they decided to have a little fun at your expense. But nothing happened, right? Xizor didn't touch you, did he?"

"No…"

"And Thrawn. When you were alone, did he do anything impolite?"

"Other than teasing me, no."

"What do you have against him anyway? I wish he'd pay some attention to me…"

"He's an admiral. I just don't like these military people. They kill. They destroy. And for what? For their leaders. No matter who these are, no matter if the orders are justified or not, they follow them blindly."

"Well, you are from Alderaan, I guess on your planet they all think so. But it's different here. The military leaders are very influential and popular. You'll just have to get used to it."

Ananké shrugged.

"I guess."

*****

Thrawn looked around the room. All the players were here, as usual. He made it a point to never appear in uniform when he came to look at the exhibited artworks, and opposite to the other dignitaries he actually came for the art.

Ysanne Isard looked as bad tempered as usual. No, she wouldn't appreciate the works of the little Alderaanian artist. A pity, really, she deserved appreciation. He had done a little research, and was surprised at what he'd found.

Ah, there she was. She looked so fragile in her flowing dress, her hair in a simple bun at the nape of her neck, almost no jewellery. All in all an interesting contrast to the court ladies. Refreshing. The way she had treated him was refreshing too, she didn't show the usual prejudices against non-humans that he encountered so often among the high society of Coruscant.

Tarkin seemed transfixed by her. He was away often to finish a secret project on one of the rim worlds, but time and again he came to Coruscant to remind the Emperor and everybody else of his continued existence. He was highly intelligent but his sense of aesthetics seemed to be limited to women.

She looked around and when their eyes met she quickly averted her gaze.

He turned around, Tixor just had begun his speech. He introduced the little artist, said a few words about her career and went on about her paintings and her style. He could tell that only half of the people here understood everything he said, and even less were actually interested.

If Ananké's thinned lips were anything to judge by, she was aware of that. Finally Tixor was finished and asked the guests to enjoy themselves. Ah, and of course Prince Xizor had to give another meaning to these words and went towards the little artist herself, instead of her pictures. She noticed and meandered out of the room as soon as he was distracted by some Moff, who had intercepted his course to ask a question.

Thrawn allowed himself a little smirk. Clever girl.

Not giving any thought to the others game of meet and greet, he went for the exhibition rooms himself. Oh yes, her paintings were worth coming to see. They were subtle, only nuances in form and colour divulging their meaning. It seemed she had hidden depths below her façade of inexperience and awkwardness. She had a strong sense of honour, even if he couldn't agree with all of her principles. He shrugged; well, occupational hazard that one. You couldn't allow yourself such delicate sensibilities, if you wanted to lead armies into battle and expect to win. But it certainly explained her reaction to him,. Somebody must have told her what he did for a living. That empty headed chit she left with the last time perhaps.

He went on to the next paintings, slightly abstract paintings of landscapes. He raised his brows when he noticed that there were no people in them. Now that he could relate to, she liked to be left alone with her thoughts, maybe because she learned early in life that it made no sense relating them to others because they wouldn't understand without long explanations. He sighed, he felt like that more than often around his subordinates.

He moved on. Interesting, latent rebellious tendencies, as he saw little differences from the common Alderaan style. Just little hints here and there, almost mischievous in nature.

Ah, here she was hiding. He had to commend her on the choice of location, the circular room was more dimly lit than the rest with spotlights on the paintings. The reptilian traits gave the Falleen many advantages, but their night vision was abysmal.

She just stared into space, absently munching an hors d'oeuvre.

"Greetings, Miss Inverres."

She looked up sharply.

"Hello admiral," came the dry answer.

He mentioned towards the paintings.

"They belong to a cycle, I take it."

"Yes, they illustrate an old legend."

"I must admit, I'm curious what kind of legend you'd choose to paint."

She sighed. She was obviously bored out of her wits, so chances were that she'd go with it.

"It's a legend my mother used to tell me when I was little. It's about Lyrill Mistweaver, a trickster. She lives in swamps and forests and makes people lose their way. There are many stories about her, but I've always liked this one best."

He nodded to encourage her to continue.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"It starts here…"

*****

Lyrill Mistweaver was one of the lesser spirits at the court of the deities and madly in love with Davyn, the prince. She pined for him and tried to get him to notice her, but it was of no use, he never even looked at her. She was a mischievous creature, who loved to cause as much mayhem as possible, but other than that, she was never noticed.

Completely in despair, she wove a shroud of mists around her and entered the queen's chambers to borrow one of her necklaces. If she had jewellery like the higher ladies, maybe he'd notice her then? And the queen had so many jewels, she'd never know it was gone for one evening.

But, just as she grabbed a necklace, she was caught by the queen. Lyrill wanted to run, but the queen caught a handful of Lyrill's silver hair and dragged her before the king.

"She tried to steal my jewels," the queen cried.

"No, that's not true, I only meant to borrow them, I was going to put them back," Lyrill tried to defend herself.

The king leant forward on his throne.

"And why would you want to borrow jewels," he asked with a frown.

Lyrill looked at the floor and bit her lip. She couldn't very well tell the king in presence of the whole court, that she was in love with his only son and wanted to catch his attention.

When no answer came forth, the king's frown deepened.

"You are hereby banished from my court. Go."

Lyrill left the castle weeping, now she was never going to see her beloved again.

She wandered aimless about the world, until she met a little wind spirit.

"Why so glum, Lyrill Mistweaver? You are usually bursting with mischief, what happened to you?", the wind spirit asked her.

Lyrill told the little spirit of her banishment.

The little wind spirit pitied Lyrill Mistweaver and asked to come with her to the Windlord. Again, she told her tale, and the Windlord allowed her to accompany him in his entourage, disguised as a wind spirit. 

Lyrill thanked him, and a few days later they left for the court of the deities to attend a big ball that the king and the queen were giving at the birthday of their son.

When they arrived, the little wind spirit helped Lyrill to fashion a dress made of mists and a beautiful necklace made of grass and dewdrops that sparkled like diamonds. More of the dewdrops went into her silver hair.

Dressed like that she went into the ballroom, and everybody turned to look at the strange beauty who had come to the ball. She looked so different to her former plain and slightly scruffy appearance, and acted so mildly where she once had been raucous and wild, that not even the king and the queen recognized her.

Many nobles asked her to dance, but the prince was more interested in talking about hunting and warfare with his companions.

Suddenly a strand of her hair tickled the Windlord's nose and he had to sneeze. Lyrill(')s dress of mist was blown away and she stood in before the guests as naked as she was born with only her silver hair covering her.

The nobles, who had admired her only a short while ago were laughing uproariously now. The king now recognized Lyrill Mistweaver, but since she amused him so greatly he decided to forgive her.

Angry and embarrassed Lyrill ran from the ballroom and hurriedly threw her old shift back on, never noticing the prince staring at her in wonder.

She ran and hid in a swamp, spreading her mists about it so that nobody could find her.

A short time later she heard shouts for help. She was angry and sad, but she was not so hard(-)hearted to let some poor soul drown in her swamp just because of that, so she hurried over to where the shouts had come from.

But how great was her astonishment when she recognized the prince Davyn himself! Quickly she pulled him out of the mud and had to giggle as she saw his elegant clothes splattered with dirt.

"Why did you follow me?"

 "I must have been blind, why did I never notice your beauty before? Please forgive us and come back, come back as my bride, if you want."

Lyrill Mistweaver forgot her humiliation and happily embraced the prince.

"Yes, I will come back as your bride," she whispered.

And they lived happily ever after.

*****

They stood now in front of the last picture, that showed the back of the prince with Lyrill beaming over his shoulder right out of the picture.

"An interesting tale, Miss Inverres."

The little artist just shrugged with a lopsided grin. She checked her chrono then.

"I guess I've been here long enough.  Nobody will notice if I go now."

He nodded.

"Please allow me to escort you home, it _is_ rather late," he offered.

She looked at him sharply. Ah yes, not prejudiced against aliens she may be, but against the military… well, not that he could blame her, the behaviour of most higher ranking officers towards women was atrocious.

"No, that will not be necessary, thank you. Good evening, Admiral."

With that she turned and left. He shrugged, she was hardly his responsibility.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A frail looking hand drummed a pensive beat on the desktop. It belonged to a frail looking man who sat behind the desk, thinking. His auburn hair had begun to grey and to lighten, his skin, stretched tightly over his bones, was mottled with age-spots.

But the gaze of his steel-grey eyes was as fanatical as it had always been; this unbending will to live and form the galaxy to his liking had never vanished.

And in spite of all this energy Grand Moff Tarkin didn't know what to do.

She had shone like a beacon over the gallery's foyer, causing a nagging feeling of Déjà-vu. He had watched her, her looks and mannerisms reminding him of someone from his past, but she was so young!

He had left rather early, her paintings were rather pretty, but he considered arts a degenerated waste of time. Unlike this freakish alien Admiral Thrawn, he knew what was important for this galaxy. Well, he would leave the Freak to moon over his paintings, if he was busy with this nonsense, he wouldn't be a danger. The Emperor listened to him far too much as it was.

As soon as he was at home, he had started to make inquiries. Grown up on Myrkr, though born on Coruscant. Interesting, her parents must have had something to hide. And there was something about Myrkr, something just out of reach to his memory. No matter.  There was no known father and the name of her mother was erased. He thought for a while. The name was gone, but the date of death was there.

He entered a query for all people on Myrkr who had died that day. A long list of names appeared. He ruled out the male part. The list shortened considerably. He ruled out people over sixty years of age too, and there were only a few names left. One caught his eyes and he gasped.

Livia. His Livia, the only woman he had ever loved.

The Jedi healer who had given everything up for him.

He had believed that she had died in the Purges.

He had the computer compare the listed DNA samples to his.

They matched.

Tarkin leant back in his chair and closed his eyes.

_Congratulations, old boy, it's a daughter._

*****

Ananké was in the middle of painting one of the slugs that could be found nibbling at buildings (a challenge, she tried to make it appear beautiful without changing the fact that it was, well, a slug), when she heard the door-chime. Sighing she whipped her hands on a rag and turned the music down.

She had expected Therana, but instead of her colourful friend a mouse-grey uniformed imperial solider stood before her when she opened the door.

"Greetings, Miss Inverres," he said earnestly.

What was it with these military guys and "Greetings"?

"Good afternoon, uhm…"

"Lieutenant Mothles. Grand Moff Tarkin would like to see you, Miss."

"Oh, yes, certainly…"

The Lieutenant seemed to suppress a grin.

"May I suggest a change of clothing?"

Ananké looked down at herself. Frayed robes, splattered with paint.

"Oh, of course. Please do come in and make yourself comfortable while I change."

She went into her living- cum bedroom and he stayed in her atelier. A few minutes later she emerged in a plain but clean outfit only to find him standing exactly where she had left him. She shook her head. Honestly, she'd _never_ understand these people.

"Did Grand Moff Tarkin mention why he would like to see me?"

"No, Miss. Are you ready?"

Ananké shrugged.

"I guess so."

Mothles escorted her out of the building and helped her into a military vehicle that was waiting in the front.

He got in beside her and mentioned to the driver. A few seconds later they were off. Ananké leant back into the seat and thought about this summons. Resistance was of no use here, she knew he could just as well have her dragged to him, she appreciated that he had asked nicely first. Ananké had noticed Tarkin staring at her during Tixor's speech, but she couldn't understand why.  And now he wanted to talk to her. Sent a Lieutenant even, not simply some storm troopers. Just what could he want of her? Did he want to get her to spy on somebody? Thrawn maybe? Tarkin's dislike of non-humans was well known; he only tolerated them as slaves. Ananké frowned. No, she was simply hopeless as a spy. Something else then.

The vehicle stopped in front of a palace. Lieutenant Mothles helped her out and lead her through the building to a plain door, which he opened for her. He mentioned her to enter.

She did, and stepped into Tarkin's office.

Tarkin stood.

"Greetings, Miss Inverres," he said with a thin smile and gestured towards the armchair in front of his desk.

Ananké almost rolled her eyes. Greetings again.

"Good afternoon, Grand Moff," she answered sitting down, Tarkin did the same.

"I suppose, you've been wondering, why I called you here."

Ananké nodded cautiously, and he gave her that peculiar razor-thin smile again.

"Tell me about your mother."

Ananké shrugged.

"She died when I was seven, so I don't remember much. She just faded away, it was no special illness or something, it was more as if she had lost all will to live. She used to tell me stories, you know, folk tales from Alderaan."

"I thought you were from Myrkr?"

"I spent my first years there, yes, but mother was from Alderaan. I returned there after her death to live with a childhood friend of hers."

"What was your mother's name?"

"Livia Inverres."

Tarkin closed his eyes shortly.

"And you studied arts on Alderaan?"

"Yes, arts and history. I excelled in both."

"Yes, I know that. Did your mother ever mention your father?"

Ananké looked at her hands, which were folded in her lap.

"No. When I asked her once, she just said that she had to leave him because he was a danger to the both of us," she almost whispered. Why was he asking all these questions?

"I had your DNA compared to mine this morning. Here are the results," he said, handing her a data pad.

Ananké took it and stared at the contents dumbfounded. Closely related. She swallowed. Her father was the Butcher of Ghorman. The man who had landed his ship on a platform where people of Ghorman demonstrated against the raising of taxes. Hundreds of people had died.  That was the first but certainly not the last atrocious act against the populace of the Outer Rim. This man held and sold slaves like cattle, intelligent beings, whose only fault it was that they weren't human.

"You look a little pale, dear," Tarkin said sardonically and pressed a button on the console that was integrated in his desk.

A short time later a tall Mon Calamari shuffled in, his high domed head bowed submissively. His huge sad looking eyes met Ananké's for a second. _A slave_, she realized and felt her heart constrict. She had heard of the gentle people dwelling in the bays of the wide, all encompassing ocean of their world. She loved their art and literature, and it pained her to see a member of this highly developed race like this.

"Bring us some tea, Ackbar," Tarkin ordered.

The Mon Calamari nodded and went to fulfil the order.

"You must realize, that this is neither the time nor the place for your precious Alderaanian sensibilities, daughter," interrupted Tarkin's cutting voice her thoughts.

Ananké flinched, she had read it, yes, but to hear it from his mouth made it sound so final.

"They aren't even human, don't waste your compassion on them, they don't deserve it," he said scathingly.

Ananké lowered her head again, but this time to hide the blazing fury in her eyes. How dare he, how _dare_ he!

The cabinet behind him that showed off his medals suddenly burst.

Ananké was shocked out of her anger.

Tarkin just smiled.

"Just as I thought. Your mother didn't tell you that she used to be a Jedi, did she?"

"No."

"You have inherited her powers, as it seems. Now you have two choices, either you let the Emperor train you, or you die like the rest of those Jedi fools died at the Purge."

Ananké hid her face in her hands.

"I will give you some time to decide. I'll contact you again to have your decision."

Ackbar entered again with a tray that held two teacups and a plate of biscuits. 

"Will you stay to have tea with me, daughter," he asked blandly.

Just looking at the food made her sick.

"No, I'd rather return to my flat to think about your offer, father."

The last word sounded like a curse, no matter how hard she tried to reign in her emotions.

Tarkin nodded and Ananké left without a glance at him, never noticing the pitying look Ackbar send her way.

*****

Therana was shocked. Ananké had called her sounding deeply disturbed and she had come as soon as possible to find her friend in quite a state.

"Sith, Ananké, you look as green as a bag of Bantha bogies! What happened?"

"Tarkin had me called to him."

Therana jumped up from where she sat and stalked through the room.

"That miserable old lecher! He's making me sick!"

Ananké just shook her head.

"No, nothing like that. This would be preferable even. No, you see, I was just confronted with the fact that I'm his daughter."

Therana stopped dead.

"You are _what_?"

"His daughter. And now I have the choice to either enter the Emperors service since I inherited my mother's Force-sensitivity, or die."

Poor girl, she really didn't deserve this. All she wanted to do was to paint and now she got sucked up into this mess.

"Maybe it won't be so bad," she ventured.

Ananké just snorted humourlessly.

"Oh really. And just who do you suppose would train me? There are not especially many Jedi left, are there?"

Oh dear. The only Jedi, if he could be called that, who still lived was Darth Vader. The one who had killed all the others.

"I'm afraid, Therana. This is going to happen and I just can't stop it! I'm afraid," Ananké whimpered.

Therana drew her into a tight hug.

"You'll survive. If you are really Tarkin's daughter, and if your mother really was a Jedi, you can survive anything," she said, laying all the confidence she could muster into her voice. Even if Therana didn't believe one word she said herself.


	6. Chapter 5

A.N.: Sorry it took me so long to update, but I was hit with a massive writer's block. Thanks and credits at the end of the chapter.

Chapter 5

"You may rise, my friend."

Tarkin got to his feet again and looked at the man he had created the administrative side of the Empire for. The white, decaying skin was barely visible in the dim lightening, but he had to suppress a shudder anyway. 

"Tell me about this young woman," the Emperor said, leaning back in his throne.

"Yes, your majesty. She's my daughter. Livia had hidden her from me when she fled during the purges. I thought they had both died."

"How did she manage to elude us?"

"She went to Myrkr."

"Ah yes, of course. The Yslamiri shielded her from Vader's senses. Now, what should we do about her, my friend? She's Force sensitive; I felt her little temper tantrum earlier this day. I'm afraid she's a danger."

Tarkin swallowed. He didn't like the direction this conversation was going. He stared into the sickly yellow eyes of the Emperor.

"But she could also be an asset if properly trained, your majesty. She is still young and impressionable."

"Certainly, but she was raised on Alderaan. Something should be done of this breeding place of rebellion and treachery."

Tarkin shrugged artfully.

"She needs a good teacher then, one who can convince her to follow the right path."

"Very well, I shall meditate about this. You may leave now."

Tarkin bowed deeply and left. He would contact his daughter again in a few days.

*****

Ananké sat in her new flat, listlessly sipping at a cup of tea. Her new quarters were spacey and high over the clouds, which gave her brilliant light for painting, but they felt even less like home than her cramped two-room flat.

She sighed. What a mess. On her second visit Tarkin had calmly informed her that her current living arrangements were no longer suitable for her new position, but that he couldn't't let her live in his palace either, bastard daughter that she was. His wife may be offended. Ananké supposed that she should be grateful for that, this way she didn't need to see him every day he was on Coruscant.

He had also allowed her to continue painting, as it would seem strange were she suddenly to stop. Ananké was grateful for that too, it gave her a means to vent her frustrations by illustrating another myth, which was not as light-hearted as the last. A good thing that Therana was the daughter of a Moff, so she was deemed a suitable companion and was allowed to continue to visit her.

The other arrangements were not so positive though. Every third day she would be brought to the Imperial Palace to receive lessons from Lord Vader. He was rumoured to be vicious and quick to anger, and he had killed people for merely looking at him the wrong way.

Another twice a week course was in self-defence and etiquette by some shady imperial agent she didn't even know the name of yet. And she'd have to live with bodyguards now, since political enemies could see her as a promising target. Tarkin hadn't named Ysanne Isard, but Ananké was sure that she was whom he meant. Among others.

How nice and easy everything had been on Alderaan. Idly she wondered if this was what Estiphe had meant when she had said this planet would stain her soul.

*****

He really had no time for this. No time and no patience. First his master had ordered him to help Tarkin with that pet project of his, and now he was supposed to train his bastard daughter who had suddenly popped up and seemed to have some Force sensitivity. As if there wasn't anything more important than that. For example these rebels that spread like vermin. Or the various criminal organisations that sucked the life out of whole planets like leeches. Not to mention their employment of slavers. 

He detested slavers.

But no, training this silly little girl, he had heard she was an artist of all things, was more important than that. Well, she'd better measure up.

Or else.

With this thought Darth Vader rounded the last corner and entered the training room to meet his new student.

She was gazing out of a window but turned when she heard the sound of his respirator. She swallowed and eyed him warily. So she didn't know how to act. He smiled thinly behind his mask. Influencing her would be much easier if he could keep her off balance. He decided to just stand there and stare at her for a while, people tended to find that unnerving because they couldn't see his face. Little did they know that they would be even more flustered if they could.

Just as he thought, it took barely one minute and the scrawny little creature started fidgeting.

Pathetic.

"So you are here to become a Sith," he rumbled.

"I g … guess so, m … my Lord."

And a stutter on top of that. Just what was the Emperor thinking? He unhooked a lightsaber from his belt and threw it at her.

"Do you even know what that is?"

She caught it and swallowed.

"A … a lightsaber."

Vader made a movement with his hand and a little practising droid lifted itself from a shelf and floated towards them.

"It's set to mild stun. Defend yourself."

*****

Ananké fumbled with the switch for a while, never letting the little hovering ball out of her sight. For something so little it had a surprising air of menace.

Ah, so there was the blade and it was orange. How to go about this? It occurred to her that the chances of fending off the little bugger would rise if she held the blade between it and herself.

She swallowed.

Suddenly the droid let off a little laser beam. She tried to catch it with her lightsaber, but simply wasn't fast enough. A searing pain shot through her left thigh.

"Ouch!"

That was what Vader called a mild stun?

She turned back to the droid.

It shot its laser beams and Ananké couldn't stop them. And Vader wasn't offering any advice. She was growing more and more frustrated until she wasn't thinking anymore and with a shout of anger threw her lightsaber at the diabolical thing.

It was split cleanly in two halves that fell to the floor in front of her. But the most curious thing was that she could see the droid die even before the blade had left her hand.

Ananké looked rather dumbly at the now deactivated handle of the lightsaber flying an elegant arc and returning into Vader's hand.

"It took you long enough to finally touch the Force. But since your powers seem to be mediocre at best, this is hardly surprising. Meditate on it until next time," the Sith Lord rumbled, turned on his heel and left.

Suddenly she felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut and she collapsed to the hard floor. She felt something in her cry out in pain and confusion.

And _something_ answered back.

Something silent and soothing that loosened her muscles that had drawn up under the stunning bolts from the practising droid and calming her anger at being hurt for no reason.

Something she knew but couldn't remember.

As suddenly as it had been there it was gone again, but she felt much better. Slowly she stood and made her way home.

When she was back in her flat she dropped into an armchair and tried to mull things over. This just didn't add up. Vader wanted her to be furious. Well, she had only been able to touch the Force when she was angry. Was it like that? She doubted it; the presence that had helped her after Vader had been gone hadn't felt angry at all. So maybe there was something that Vader didn't want her to find out about the Force. And how productive could anger be in a fight anyway? She supposed it was like discussing. You could win by shouting the other down or you could try to stay detached and use your logic.

Ananké sighed. She had never been one to shout, and as it seemed Vader wanted her to do just that. She wished she had somebody to talk to who knew about these things.

She went over to her desk and found her com terminal blinking; Therana had left a message to invite her to a party at her home.

_Sounds like fun. And I desperately need a distraction._

*****

_Now why exactly did I come here?_

Ananké stood next to a small fountain sipping on her second glass of wine (from Alderaan of course) after having been introduced to dozens of people who didn't deem her worthy to talk to. That may have been because Therana had omitted her parentage, but that was how she would have preferred it anyway. No way she would say anything just for being fawned over by people who would just try to get on Tarkin's good side. She idly wondered if there was such a thing.

"Would you mind if I joined you?"

Ananké looked up into a gently smiling face with earnest eyes. Of course she knew who that was, who on Alderaan didn't.

"No, please do, your Highness."

"Thank you. I visited your exhibition today. Your work is really remarkable, my favourite is the painting of Crevasse City. You used local soils to paint it, didn't you," Princess Leia asked.

"Yes, that's right. Crevasse City is very earthy, like her people, so I thought it appropriate. "

 "Winter liked the Lyrill Mistweaver cycle very much," the princess said mentioning towards a young woman near them who immediately came closer. Ananké had to hide a grin behind her glass. This woman had the otherworldly beauty and the long white hair of the mythic entity. Winter reached out her hand and Ananké shook it.

"Nice to meet you. If I ever need a model for another fable about Lyrill, I'll ask you, if you don't mind," Ananké said smiling.

Winter returned her smile but stayed silent.

"You haven't been her for long, haven't you? How do you like Imperial Center?"

"Well, your Highness, I already wish that I had never left Alderaan," Ananké said grimacing.

Princess Leia raised her perfect eyebrows.

"Well, it's noisy and filthy, no trees, no grass, no flowers. Only people in various degrees of obnoxiousness," she quickly added.

"Not to mention this revelation about your father, no?"

Ah, so that was what it was about. Her father, her father. She sighed.

"I try not to think too much about that."

The princess just nodded.

"You'll have to be very careful. Many will see you as their enemy because you're from Alderaan. Others will try to use you and pull you into dangerous power games."

_Time to drop the mask, I think._

"And what are you trying to do?"

"What do you mean?"

Ananké sighed again.

"Like all good politicians you have ideals but also a practical mind that recognises advantages and knows how to use them. There's no shame in that, the question is what you use said advantages for. So I ask you, what do you want?"

Princess Leia's smile turned slightly grim.

"Well, good artists seem to have that practical mind too. All right. I think you know that the situation of Alderaan is growing continually worse. First we had to disband our fleet. Then came the planetary weaponry. Just this morning came the order to deactivate and dismantle the planetary shield! The senate has voted for sending political counsellors to our universities, which are one of the last bastions of free thinking in the galaxy. They want to take away everything that makes us who we are. I just ask you to stay true to your roots and maybe help me to save our identity by making people see what they are about to loose. And if you happen to hear something of interest let me know."

"You want me to spy for you."

"No! I wouldn't want you to endanger yourself. Just keep a close ear to the grapevine when you attend parties and other social events."

Ananké nodded.

"I suppose I can do that. I've made no secret about my homesickness, so I don't think anyone will see anything strange if I seek your company. Or Winter's. I think that might be even better."

"Yes, your Highness. Nobody will pay me much attention, since I'm just your aide."

It was the first time that Ananké had heard her speak, and she was captivated by the clear, velvety alto that came from the solemn woman. It suited her.

"So it's a plan. You should meet sometime to become better acquainted."

Both dignitaries said their goodbyes and left Ananké standing alone again. She shrugged, took another glass from a passing waiter and continued to watch the people milling about.

"You really should change your taste in companions, Miss Inverres."

Ananké almost dropped her glass from the shock of a smooth voice speaking behind her.

She turned around and looked into a pair of already familiar glowing red eyes.

"Good evening, Admiral."

He was in uniform this time, which made him look even colder. Besides, the dull green didn't go well with the pale blue colour of his skin.

"That empty headed chit that's constantly flitting around you is bad enough. But the Senator of Alderaan who is said to have connections to the rebels is right out dangerous."

"And you are about to suggest an alternative, I assume," Ananké asked unable to take the sarcasm out of her voice. And she tried. Really.

Thrawn just smiled and lifted his hands in a humble gesture.

"I merely offer my advice."

"Well there are only empty headed or dangerous people in this place. Some are even both."

"But if you are in league with the likes of the Senator somebody could label _you_ a danger and have you assassinated."

Ananké shrugged and emptied her glass.

"Well, in that case you should buy some of my paintings, because they'll raise in value in the event of my death."

He said nothing, just raised his left eyebrow.

Ananké threw her arms up in defeat.

"All right, all right, I get the message. I have partaken of the wine too much, I shall hie myself home."

Thrawn turned slightly and offered her his arm.

"Then allow me to escort you," he drawled keeping the tone of her jest.

Ananké hesitated for a moment, but after the events of this day she just couldn't bring herself to care and delicately placed her hand into the crook of his arm.

A.N.:   Neila: you are my hero. Thank you for your encouragement and the betaing. I'd be lost without you.

            chris steel: you inspired me with your stories and kind words, couldn't resist giving a little nod towards your story "Favours". Spotted it? Oh, and don't worry, Thrawn will get pretty menacing later, he just didn't have any reason to be yet.

Yaebginn: The mother thing was hinted at in the prologue, but I'm glad I could surprise you. Not so sure about action scenes though, I'm just crap at writing those.

Kimara: Thrawn and Ananké? I don't know if that's such a good idea…

Schehezerade: Thank you! I stumbled about that thing with Ackbar on coincidence. Went to the official Star Wars site to look up Tarkin. Clicked on some other charas I liked (but didn't plan to include) and found out about Ackbar's time as Tarkin's personal slave. So there was no way I could leave that out, besides - it's fantastic conflict material!

And Xizor is an interesting guy too. Could stir up lots of trouble and get away with it. I've always liked sly-evil villains, and in the first trilogy there was only cold-evil (Vader), yucky/dumb-evil (Jabba) and crazy-evil (Palpatine).

Jedi Princess2: Yeah, Mary-Sues are terrible things to menace the fiction writing… I just wanted to create a chara who is not as cool as the other heroes. Well, OK, Luke is pretty un-cool too the (way he just screams "country-bumpkin"… I've always liked that).

Dragonsdaughter1: Thank you. Well, coming from Alderaan Ananké knows pretty well that the Imps aren't the good guys. But since she's just an artist and not a fighter she doesn't see any alternative then to duck her head and endure. And let's face it, there's only very few people who are hero material.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Tarkin didn't look up when Ananké entered the room. This gave her some time to look around a bit. They were in a study, but not the one they first met in. This room was more luxurious, plush carpets covered the floor and the furniture was made from some sort of expensive wood that was inlaid with semiprecious stones. Several potted plants were spread around the room decoratively and Ananké bit her lips as she spotted an Alderaanian orchid-fern. It wasn't blooming at the moment, but she could vividly remember the sweet heavy fragrance that filled the canyons of Crevasse city in the summer after a rainfall.

"Sit."

Ananké jumped a little and obeyed. Her father sounded as if he was not in the best of moods.

"I suppose you don't know why I wish to talk to you," Tarkin grated. His lips opened just enough to let the words escape and were immediately after clamped back into a razor sharp line.

"Yes, that's right," she answered, not exactly well tempered herself. The wine from last night had some unpleasant after effects. 

"Very well. Now would you please tell me exactly what you were thinking, dallying with Admiral Thrawn yesterday?"

"_Dallying_? Just what is that supposed to mean?"

"You left with him! That you don't care for my reputation is not surprising, but don't you at least care for your own?"

Ananké leaped from her seat.

"Now listen, I'm old enough to know what I'm doing!"

Tarkin got up too and leant over his desk, propped up on his fists.

"This isn't about age. This is about decency," he snapped.

"Decency."

"Exactly! How could you even think about consorting with a non-human?"

"Now why wouldn't I … one moment. What do you think we did?"

"Now what do two people do when they go home together," Tarkin asked sarcastically.

Ananké went slightly green when she realized what Tarkin meant. And probably not only him. Most of the high society of Coruscant had been present at the party.

Oh dear.

"No, it wasn't like that. I had too much wine and the Admiral was so good to bring me home. That's all," she said weakly.

Tarkin gave her a piercing look.

"Really. Well I thought you'd have more sense than that. Who knows what that abomination could have done to you."

Ananké felt herself bristle. She didn't really like Thrawn, but to call someone an abomination just because he wasn't human went against everything she believed in.

"And you are not concerned about what some humans might do to me? Figures."

Tarkin sat back down and looked at a datapad in front of him.

"Anyway, you'll discontinue seeing him."

Ananké snorted.

"I haven't been seeing him. Just what has you so rattled?"

Tarkin looked up and she was a bit taken aback from the intensity of his eyes.

"He's dangerous on so many levels you can't comprehend. You might think that if you are friendly to him he won't harm you, but let me assure you, if you come up against one of his convoluted schemes, he will."

"Oh. And you won't."

Ananké gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth. That had been out before she could think.

To her surprise Tarkin just gave her a wry smile.

"I try not to let it come that far. But no, I think I won't. Now sit back down and listen. Thrawn seems to have taken a liking to you. That in itself is dangerous enough, but he wouldn't be interested if he couldn't use you in some matter or another."

"Oh please, what could I of all people be of use to an admiral for? I know nothing about warfare. I'm not even interested in it. I only paint and he knows that."

"I don't know. But he has used the most unlikely things in his favour in the past. Nobody understands his plans until they fall into place. How do you think he was able to come as far as he has? Now, I believe you have a lesson scheduled in an hour."

"Yes. Good bye."

Tarkin nodded and went back to his datapad. Ananké left for her flat.

Now really, he must be thinking that she was completely stupid. That he wouldn't hurt her she didn't believe one minute. And if Thrawn was human, Tarkin would be using her to get him as his ally. She was rather grateful he wasn't. Dangerous, ha, bit rich coming from somebody who had killed hundreds of people on a whim. More than once. 

Ananké shook her head. She seemed to have developed a talent for getting herself into messes.

*****

Trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible Ackbar shuffled through the corridors of Tarkin's palace. It was lucky that Mon Calamari had a slightly hunched figure by nature; it made acting humble a lot easier. He hated acting humble. Before the Empire attacked his home world he had been a prized member of the (albeit small) military forces, had commanded one of the awe-inspiring cruisers that his people had built. They were beautiful ships; their hulls were shaped like the huge sponges that grew in the wide oceans, not as angular as the abominations that the Imperials called Star Destroyers.

But they had lost the battle and he was one of thousands who now had to spend their lives as slaves. And Ackbar had to fill the role of the personal servant of the man who had orchestrated the assault on his beautiful and peace-loving planet.

But he was resolved to make the best of this situation. There were rumours about a rebellion, people who wanted to bring the Empire down and build a society in which everybody had a place, and where people whom the Empire scoffed at, or worse, persecuted, could live in peace. Artists, critical thinkers and curious explorers who sought knowledge from new worlds, not their resources. A galaxy where he could lead expeditions to unknown places to befriend new species and cultures, like generations of Mon Calamari had done before him.

So he bore the daily indignities with silence and tried to find out as much as possible about the plans of his master. He wanted to help the rebels, should he ever be able to escape.

Tarkin had ordered some tea, so it was his job to bring it. A droid would have done just as well, but Tarkin liked to see his slave doing menial tasks. When he arrived the study was empty. He sighed and went to leave the tray he carried in the desk when he froze.

The terminal was activated and showed some kind of blueprint. Curious he stepped closer to study the screen.

A battle station the size of a small moon, equipped with some sort of super-laser powerful enough to vaporize an entire planet.

The tray gave a tinkling sound and Ackbar looked at his hands.

They were shaking.

*****

"You are late."

Ananké flinched; the words coming from the petite redhead were openly hostile.

"I already have to waste my time with teaching you, so you could at least be on time."

"I'm sorry …"

"You can call me Jade."

Ananké nodded.

"Which fighting styles have you learned so far?"

"Fighting styles? None, I suppose."

Jade rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I forgot, you're from Alderaan. Bunch of sissies, the lot of you. I killed my first opponent when I was twelve," Jade said snidely.

Ananké swallowed. This woman was in a way more dangerous than Vader. She probably thought she would be training her replacement. As if she'd ever wanted to do the things this woman obviously did. Killing people, no, the killing of a sentient was abhorred by every Alderaanian. Even if some might be forced to do that, the true children of her planet never lost their loathing for such an act. Children were taught from a very young age to respect life.

A sudden punch into her stomach made her double up in pain gasping for air.

"The next time you're inattentive it won't be my fist but my knife," stated the other without a trace of emotion.

A look into Jade's eyes told Ananké that the other would indeed kill her. And she would do it gladly. Biting her lips Ananké got her breathing under control and stood. No, she hadn't studied any fighting styles, but she had attended a course at university in gymnastics that were derived from an ancient way of self-defence. Maybe this would help her here. Maybe she could reconstruct…

This time Jade really had a knife in her hand when she lunged at her and without much thinking Ananké used the move she and her friends had called "The Drunken Thranta", where one stretched out one's arms for balance and tiptoed around in a seemingly chaotic manner. But these swaying moves enabled one to suddenly change direction without loosing balance.

Jade's attack missed, but she recovered quickly.

"You can't run forever."

No. Sometimes the best defence was a good offence. Whoa, that sounded like something Thrawn would say; and with a wry smile she suddenly let her leg snap upward to connect with Jade's chin.

But Jade just flip-flopped backwards and both stood facing one another again.

"Well, it seems you aren't completely hopeless after all."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Jade just gave her a look full of loathing.

"Spare me your pathetic attempts at sarcasm. I will work out a training program for you, which you will follow to the letter, no questions asked. Got that? Good. Get yourself a training blaster; we will start with marksmanship next time. And for Sith's sake, get yourself some sensible clothes. You're just a bastard, not a princess, and like a bastard you will be treated. Now get out of my sight."

Ananké turned on her heel, vaguely aware that it was rather stupid to turn one's back at that woman, but she was too furious to care and miraculously her lapse in judgement stayed without consequences. This time.

*****

"Just who does this bitch think she is," Ananké yelled.

Therana was a little shocked to hear her friend use such language. Ananké just didn't say such things. Ananké was a gentle creature, polite and full of patience - she had to be, Therana thought, to have put up with her as long as she had. The life in the upper class of Imperial Center changed her, and Therana wasn't sure she liked the change. But this was hardly Ananké's fault; she was just overwrought because callous people tried to meld her into something she was not. She sighed.

"Now would you please sit down for a minute? I'll make some tea, and then you are going to tell me everything from the beginning."

Obediently her friend plopped down on the circular couch and she went to the kitchenette.

She liked Ananké's flat, it was like a piece of Alderaan. The walls were white and the furniture had light earth tones. A few paintings were here and there and a lot of potted plants. The flat was in one of the towers, so the layout of it was circular with the elevator in the middle. The outer walls consisted mostly of windows, which let in the sunlight, the altitude left the blanket of smog below.

When she came back with a tray of tea and biscuits, the needles were gone from Ananké's hair and were replaced by her fingers trying to massage her scalp. Therana sat down the tray, sat beside her friend and started to massage her shoulders.

"Here let me. Sith, you're tense. What happened?"

"Well, I was just - ouch -  having a wonderful day. I woke up with a hangover, a message blinking on my com that daddy dearest wanted a couple of words with me. As soon as I - mh - entered his study he started to berate me how irresponsible I was to - ah, be careful, will you - leave your party in the company of an alien."

Therana couldn't hold back a squeal. Like most of the wealthy females living on Coruscant she had a terrible crush on the icy alien admiral.

"Oh yes, I meant to ask you about that…"

Ananké groaned.

"He escorted me home, he didn't even come in."

"Which, knowing you of course, you didn't even ask him to."

"Which might be why he thought it safe to bring me home," Ananké said sarcastically.

"Aw, nonsense. He's completely mad for you. By his standards."

Ananké rolled her eyes.

"As far as we know he might not even be interested in human females in _that_ way."

Therana's hands stopped for a moment.

"I've never thought about it that way! You may be right! Oh, that would be a real shame."

"Yes, wouldn't it just," Ananké answered dryly.

Therana just gave a sigh and continued to massage.

"Well, one can dream though."

"Certainly. As long as he stays out of my dreams, I'd have to call them nightmares otherwise."

"He isn't that bad," Therana protested.

"No, you're right, he isn't. Not if you compare him to other people of my recent acquaintance."

"You were going to tell me about that."

"Ah yes. Well, after that delightful conversation with my esteemed father I had my first fighting lesson with the mysterious teacher. Well, it's a woman, small, red hair, green eyes, and if she wasn't such a fury she'd be quite beautiful. First she accused me of being late, then she punched me into the guts and when I managed to avoid her second attack where she wanted to stick her knife into me, she told me that I wasn't completely hopeless, and that after calling my people a bunch of sissies. Heart-warming, isn't it? Then she insulted my parentage and told me to get out."

"What does she usually do?"

"Actually I don't want to know."

"I suppose that's wise."

Therana left her friend's shoulders be and gave her a cup of tea, which was gratefully accepted. This new teacher sounded like one of the rumoured agents who only answered to the Emperor. This was looking worse and worse. And all she could do was to sit back and watch it happen. Nobody could go against the Emperor himself. Nobody.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Therana had left some time ago for her home planet; even Thrawn was away on some assignment or another. She had come to see him as something like a friend - not that she entirely trusted him - and even Tarkin had grudgingly accepted that, but that might have something to do with the fact that the Emperor had become increasingly fond of the admiral. And now she was alone with herself again. Not the best possibility, because the self-doubts started hunting her again. Vader and Jade worked her to exhaustion each time and treated her like one of the granite-slugs. How long would she be able to live like that before she began to crack? And what would happen if she did? Would she be killed? Or would she become dark like Vader and Jade? Or cold like Tarkin? And which of these was worse?

Not able to think she went into her atelier. Maybe she should just let it out? She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

And she could suddenly _see_.

Like in trance, and maybe it was exactly that, she gathered her supplies and placed an empty canvas on her easel. She saw so many pictures, flowing into one another, separating into something completely different. It was as if she was walking into an arts exhibition that suddenly came alive.

And suddenly there was this Force-presence she had felt before. It seemed to guide her hands as she created the painting without actually being very aware of it. Ananké felt great. Everything was so warm and loving, so peaceful. All to soon the presence withdrew and she opened her eyes.

And they met those of her mother. She had painted her. It was more lifelike than anything she'd ever seen, she felt as if the petite woman would just step out of the picture at any moment.

Stifling a sob with her fist she suddenly understood. Her mother was with her, had always been; just now that she had access to the Force she could feel her as an actual presence. She wasn't alone.

A comforting thought, she just wished she could actually talk to her.  She had so many questions. Had there ever been anyone like herself, someone who could paint with the Force? In the historical archives had been only little information about the extinct order of the Jedi, but she knew that there had been different kinds. There were fighters, teachers, healers and archivists, even some who were like bards. Maybe there could be some kind of Jedi-painters too?

But she could just imagine the reaction of Darth Vader to such a question. It would be better to keep that to herself, she decided.

*****

This mechanical breathing was unnerving. He never made another sound, only this rhythmic, slightly wheezing noise.

"I felt a disturbance in the Force yesterday."

Ananké said nothing, just waited for him to continue.

"And I know that it had something to do with you."

She swallowed. Was he that powerful? Her mother wouldn't have revealed herself to him willingly, and she had been a full-fledged Jedi.

Vader suddenly was in front of her grabbing her chin. She hadn't even seen him move.

"Who spoke to you? Answer me!"

Ananké tried to dislodge his grip with her hands; she could almost feel her bones starting to crack under his fingers.

"Who was it?"

Ananké panicked and tried to erect her rudimentary shields but an angry force that swept into her mind suddenly tore them down. Vader let her go and she dropped to her knees clutching her head, her mouth open in a silent scream. She felt him rifle through her thoughts and innermost secrets like an icy wind. Her feelings for those close to her thoroughly analysed and cast away as unimportant, secret memories dredged up one after another.

Until he found her. She relived the experience in her mind, but it wasn't warm and wondrous this time, because she knew that Vader was watching it with her.

As suddenly as he had invaded her he withdrew.

Ananké gasped and tried not to cry, but she couldn't help but curl up into a sobbing ball of misery.

"That will teach you to answer truthfully next time."

He turned on his heel and left her.

"Oh look what I found; a little brat crying for her mummy."

Jade.

Ananké dragged herself to her feet and her expression must have been quite something because for a fraction of a second there was fear in Jade's eyes.

"Stop it," Ananké growled.

"Make me," Jade answered flippantly.

Ananké just erupted. Not outwardly, she just stood there, but an icy wind suddenly filled the dark, cavernous room. But it wasn't just wind, it started to shred at Jade's skin, shallow cuts appearing randomly all over her body, growing deeper and deeper every second. Ananké felt great, like she was flying, the power flowing through her veins was pure heat, beckoning, addictive.

And then something clamped down on her and everything stopped. Her hands shook badly when she tried to get her hair out of her face and froze when she saw the bloody heap on the floor that was Jade.

She had done that.

_She_ had mangled somebody like some vicious animal.

Without much thinking she hurried over to the unconscious woman and tried to assess the damage. Something had stopped her, and it had done so just in time. Jade had almost died, and she might still die if Ananké didn't do something quickly. She tried to call the Force to repair the damaged tissues and to get oxygen into the suffocating cells of her body. And something helped her, showed her what to do. The same presence that had stopped her from killing Jade.

Her mother, she realized.

When she had the other woman out of danger she left the room and called the medics. Her voice was hoarse, she must have screamed. But she really couldn't remember.

While she waited for the medics to arrive, Jade regained consciousness. 

"I'm going to kill you for that," she whispered before coughing up some blood.

Thankfully two healers and a few droids arrived just then and spared Ananké from having to answer to that. She shortly explained that there had been an accident, and the medics knew better than to ask.

She went home after that, nothing much she could do otherwise. She felt guilty because she had let herself go like that, but her defences had been too demolished after Vader's mind-rape. How could somebody do things like that? She had always known that he was twisted, but she'd had no idea how much. Now she knew.

After staring at the wall for about half an hour she decided to go to bed and cry herself to sleep.

*****

Just what had that girl been thinking? He was glad that he had been able to convince the Emperor that she shouldn't be punished by pointing out that if Jade must be slipping if she let herself be overwhelmed like that.

But he wouldn't stop Jade from seeking revenge either. It was a good thing that the woman was submerged in bacta at the moment, otherwise Ananké would be dead already.

He had to send her away for her own safety.

Ah, there she was back from her kitchenette with two steaming mugs of tea.

"Here you are, Father."

She didn't look good; the last few months had left their mark on her. Dark circles were under her eyes and she seemed to have lost weight. She'd been a delicate little thing to begin with, but now she looked emaciated. Now that answered the question where he would send her. He sighed.

"You've made yourself a dangerous enemy. As long as Jade is on the planet, you aren't safe here. So I think it would be best if you returned to Alderaan for a while."

"Your concern is touching."

He raised a finger at her.

"Don't get smart with me, girl. You did a very stupid thing and have to bear the consequences. Thankfully you aren't friendless. Admiral … Thrawn already has agreed to have an eye on you on your vacation. Be grateful he's willing to sacrifice his precious shore-leave for you."

Oh that had hurt. The indignity of asking that alien for a favour. But it couldn't be helped; Ananké was the only thing that remained of his beloved Livia. She looked a lot like him at the moment though, all jutting cheekbones and sunken in eyes. She was even pressing her lips together. He looked at the paintings at the walls.

"Did you paint anything recently?"

She shrugged.

"A portrait of mother. Would you like to see?"

He swallowed.

"Yes I would."

She got up and walked into the next room, her atelier, he assumed. He had to admit he rather liked what she had done with the flat, it was modest, almost austere, but cosy all the same. Her atelier was unfurnished apart from some shelves a few easels and a desk. She went to one of said easels and removed the sheet covering the painting on it.

His heart skipped a beat when it was revealed.

Livia. Livia, Livia.

It was a perfect image of her, but it went deeper tan that. He could see everything that he had loved about her, her gentle sense of humour, her patience and generosity. The passion that seldom surfaced but was bright and addictive when it did. But he could also see the sadness and the disappointment in her beautiful eyes, that he had seen back then, when he had told her that he would follow Palpatine and Vader, who had already begun hunting Jedi.

Tarkin closed his eyes and sucked in his breath, but it did nothing to alleviate the pain in his chest.

When he opened them again Ananké had covered the painting again.

"Yes, it rather tends to have that effect. I can't look at it either since I … did that to Jade," his daughter said with a wry smile.

She understood.

Tarkin took a deep breath.

"I'll leave Ackbar with you to help you pack, Thrawn should be here soon to get you. He has offered to give you a lift on the _Admonitor_. Take care, daughter."

"I will do my best."

He nodded and left the flat.

*****

Ackbar did as he was told and helped his master's daughter to pack. She had changed, had become harder. But she still treated him with respect. Maybe her should tell her. He had heard rumours that she was friends with the Alderaanian senator's aide. Maybe she had ties to the rebellion too.

He just had to risk it.

"I must tell you something important. Some information that needs to get to Alderaan."

Ananké stilled and nodded.

So he told her. Told her about the battle-station, about the super laser, told her the date of Tarkin's flight to take command of it.

Her face had become ghostly white but she looked determined. Yes, he had done the right thing.

"I'll tell them. Something like that just doesn't have to exist. I'll tell them everything. And I'll tell them about you. So even if they can't do anything about the station, they should try to get you free. You would be great help to them. And I really hate to see you like that."

Ackbar blinked rapidly. The right thing indeed. For the first time in years he felt a definite hope to come free of his slavery. He tried to admonish himself not to expect too much, but he just couldn't help it.

They both continued to pack in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, until Ackbar left with the luggage.

*****

"How have you been," Thrawn asked with a smile as they stepped into the elevator.

"What does it look like," the little artist asked back with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Well, you do look like you need a vacation."

"Do I. Do you remember the conversation we had about that artist from Coruscant? That his paintings were pretty but dead? I have the feeling the same thing is happening to me. Maybe it is this planet."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Or maybe the people on it?"

Ananké just shook her head and they continued the ride downward in silence. An imperial shuttle stood on the landing platform outside; the maw was open and waiting for them to step in. The guards saluted when they came near and he looked down at the little artist who seemed to suppress a grin.

"What is it," he asked as they took their seats in the back and strapped in.

"Oh this whole snappy saluting thing, I've always thought it a bit ridiculous."

"Certain routines and rituals are needed to uphold discipline," Thrawn answered with a frown. Sometimes the little artist was a bit trying.

"Yes, I know. It still seems silly."

Ah, she was trying to tease him. Well, two could play the game.

"But you'd be surprised how many women find this silly behaviour extremely enticing."

She giggled.

"Yes, I know. Therana used to fill my ears with fanciful tales of your wonderfulness. But I doubt that she's the only one with a crush on you."

"Don't remind me."

He cringed at the thought. There were a lot of women in the court who chased him more or less openly, and it wasn't always easy to escape their clutches in a polite manner. This was extremely pesky but also dangerous. He might be an exemption to the general rule not to let non-humans climb too high, but he seriously doubted that the favour he was granted would be continued to be given if he started to seduce the wives and daughters of the mighty.

The little artist was different. She hadn't even liked him at the beginning. He wondered what had changed her mind. Poor girl had probably just wanted some intelligent conversation. Now that he could understand. The fact that her father now owed him a favour was definitely a bonus.

They landed in the main hangar of the _Admonitor_ and were greeted by the commanding officers of the ship.

*****

Ananké hung back a little when Thrawn and his officers exchanged remarks that sounded like Bfasshi-backwards to her. Nav-speek, she supposed.

Then the captain turned towards her.

"Welcome on board, Miss Inverres, I hope your stay will be enjoyable."

"Oh. Yes, thank you, Captain."

One good thing could be said about this military stuff. When in doubt about the name, use the rank. She didn't like the way his eyes wandered between Thrawn and herself. But what was he supposed to think? The admiral wouldn't have told him that she was only running from an imperial assassin with a grudge.

A lieutenant was ordered to show her to her quarters. He was a rather good-looking young man; only he was much too serious. As they all were. Made her wonder if humour was a punishable offence on a ship of the imperial navy. Maybe she should ask Thrawn about that.

"What's your name?"

"Lieutenant Thomas Seldon, Miss."

"Nice to meet you. What are your duties on this ship?"

"I'm the communications officer."

"Oh. Sounds interesting," she answered with a smile.

"Yes, Miss."

"You don't like me much, do you," Ananké asked with a sigh.

"Not at all, Miss, I just don't want to risk my career," he answered with a blush.

Oh dear.

"Here are your quarters, Miss. Should you need anything, there is a protocol droid waiting for your orders."

"Thank you, lieutenant."

"Miss."

He sketched a bow and disappeared quickly.

She entered and plopped down on an armchair.

"Now that was just embarrassing."


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

From space Alderaan looked like a jewel. And a jewel it was, beautiful and precious. Ananké's heart ached as she watched her home planet grow as they neared in a shuttle. It was bound for Crevasse City, her hometown and one of the best vacation spots on the planet. Crevasse was famous for its hotels and restaurants.

The atmosphere gave the planet a bluish hue, but she knew that it was actually brilliantly green. It had no major oceans or mountain formations, only gentle hills and wide plains of grass with the occasional forest or swamp. There were literally thousands of kinds of grass in countless colours and fragrances.

The white clouds swirled beneath them, then around them and suddenly, swerving a herd of Thrantas, they must be the only ones who didn't acknowledge the right of imperial vessels to go first everywhere, Ananké thought smiling, the shuttle flew over an endless sea of green. The plains really looked like an ocean, the wind even moved the grass to look like waves. Ananké had to fight back sudden tears. Everything that had happened in the last months had made her fear that she'd never see Alderaan again, or worse, that she would come back and feel nothing.

A short time later they touched down on a landing-pad over Crevasse. As soon as the ramp went down Ananké raced out of the shuttle and flung herself with a whoop of joy headfirst from the shallow durasteel platform into the soft grass surrounding it. She closed her eyes and deeply inhaled the wonderfully alive and earthy smell before turning around to lay on her back to exhale and feel the sun on her skin.

When she opened her eyes she saw Admiral Thrawn looking down at her, arms crossed in front of his chest and with a slightly amused expression on his face.

Ananké grinned embarrassedly and got up.

"Well, I think I'll go and see how Estiphe has been doing."

"I still think that you'd be better protected if you'd stay in a hotel."

Ananké rolled her eyes.

"I can get my friend Ob Khaddar to protect me."

"And what is he, a Wookiee," Thrawn asked raising his eyebrows.

"No, better. He's a Dug. And yes, he's an artist; he makes the most amazing grass-paintings."

With that Ananké gave a little wave and went to find her mentor. She planned to have a little chat with her.

Estiphe Cheroder looked up from her work when she heard the door chime. Who could it be? Puzzled, she went to the door and opened it.

"Ananké!"

"Hello, Estiphe."

Something in her former ward's voice and expression made her stop the attempt to hug her. Instead she gave a little nervous smile.

"Come in, dear."

Ananké nodded and followed her to the living room.

"How was Coruscant ?" she asked to break the silence.

Ananké seemed to think carefully about her answer and Estiphe couldn't help being nervous because of it. Something wasn't right.

"It was enlightening," she said at last.

"Yes, I suppose it would be. Have you met anybody interesting?"

"Oh yes, lots of people. Therana Iskranfe, the daughter of a Moff, for example. She's one of the two people who kept me sane. The other is an admiral of the Imperial. Thrawn is rather unique, he's from the unknown regions and nobody seems to know his species. And he loves art. Oh, I almost forgot to mention the most important of them all … my father."

Estiphe couldn't hold back a gasp. Ananké threw her a piercing look.

"You knew."

The older woman averted her eyes and nodded.

"You knew and never told me!"

Estiphe looked back up.

"Your mother and I thought it would be best."

Livia Inverres had been a good friend, her best. In their early childhood they had been inseparable, but the bond had been severed when the Jedi had taken Livia to Coruscant to study. Not even her own parents had been allowed to visit. They had met again after the Jedi had cast her out, Estiphe had helped her to adjust – Livia hadn't known anything other than the Jedi Order since then, but she had been a wise and knowledgeable woman who always helped Estiphe with tricky decisions.

When Livia had hidden from the Purge they remained in contact, and when the Jedi Healer decided to become one with the Force she had taken her daughter in, had tried to raise her like an Alderaanian, had succeeded in many ways. Ananké had become an artist and a true lover of living things.

Angry words made her snap out of her reverie.

"But didn't I deserve to know the truth?"

Estiphe turned her head back towards her surrogate daughter.

"Has that truth brought you any happiness?"

Ananké leaped from her seat and started pacing the room.

"Happiness? Hardly. He tried to twist and mold me from the first time we met. Tried to turn me into his own image. Had Vader - Vader of all people - and some agent, who is now after my blood by the way, train me. He granted me a little reprieve until that mess is sorted out, but then I'm expected to go back to them, maybe even help him with that devilish plan of his…"

Estiphe got up too.

"What plan," she asked sharply.

"His personal slave, a Mon Calamari named Ackbar, was able to a look at some files. The Empire is building a space station equipped with a laser strong enough to vaporize a whole planet in one shot."

Estiphe could do nothing but stare at Ananké.

"So it's true," she whispered.

"So it seems."

"You must tell me everything you know. We've tried to get this kind information for ages."

"We? Oh, I see, the rebellion."

Estiphe wasn't sure if it had been a good idea to tell Ananké of her ties to the Alliance. But if she couldn't trust her, then whom could she? She hoped Ananké hadn't forgotten her teachings.

"I can't tell you any specifics about the project, but I know the flight date and the route of Tarkin's personal convoy to the shipyard. If you can organize an interdictor cruiser, you could waylay him somewhere. Ackbar will be with him, he's been in Tarkin's service for years and assembled a lot of knowledge; he'll be of much help, if he can be freed. He's very keen on joining you."

"Then tell me the date!"

Ananké just shook her head.

"You can't risk having any records of this. Is Princess Leia on planet at the moment?"

Estiphe nodded.

"Contact her aide, a woman named Winter. This information would be safest with her. Tell her to meet me somewhere in the plains. That will reduce the risk of somebody eavesdropping on us."

Estiphe sighed.

"Now tell me how you've been. I'm sorry about never telling you the truth; I just wanted you to have a chance at a normal life."

Ananké collapsed back into the couch.

"I'm completely exhausted. I was homesick the whole time, had nobody I could trust, the air was stale and polluted and I was miserable at everything my so-called teachers tried to teach me. I mean, it's been months and I hardly know one end of a lightsaber from the other. I won't even get into my piloting or shooting skills."

Estiphe sat down beside her and folded her long arms around her.

"I'll find a way for you to disappear. You won't have to go back."

The girl in her arms started to shake silently and she needed a moment to realize that she was crying. She didn't look good either, all pale and drawn. The bones were simply too visible. How could Tarkin do something like that to his own daughter? It may have been wrong not to tell Ananké about her parents, but it certainly had been the right decision not to tell him that he had a daughter. Ananké was highly intelligent and had a rather devious mind, it was terrible to think what Tarkin would have turned her into if he had been able to control her from her infancy.

She just had to get Ananké away from Coruscant. They had done enough to her there.

A few days later Ananké watched Winter's speeder disappear in the distance. Now the deed was done, she had turned traitor on her father, very likely signed his death warrant with telling the rebels how to get to him. She returned to her own vehicle and started the engine.

The talk with Estiphe a few days ago had been rather painful. She had always trusted her, had admired and loved her. She wasn't her mother, of course, but she had been the most important person in her life. And she had known. Couldn't she have warned her? Warned her to stay away from all of that? Ananké suddenly realized that Estiphe had done just that, she had been less than glad when her arts tutor had asked Ananké to go to Coruscant with her works. She had tried to dissuade her in every way possible. But she had been pigheaded and stupid. Too blinded to see behind the glittering possibilities, behind the adventure of it all. And now she had to suffer the consequences. She had been in over her head right from the moment she had walked into Tixor's gallery. And in a few days she had to go back to all of that.

Time to see a friendly face. She had tried to find out what Ob was up to, but his current project was kind of top secret. Thankfully she'd been able to find out where he was currently working.

She could see it from far away, a space of naked earth in the endless grass. When she had parked her speeder, well, Estiphe's actually, on the edge of the field, she got out and started to look for her friend.

They had met at the university, where both of them were outsiders; he, because he was the only one of his kind studying arts and she because of her slightly antisocial nature. In many ways they were the complete opposite of each other, Ob with his head filled with nonsense and his fiery temperament and the quiet and rather rational Ananké.

It wasn't easy to spot the small, brown skinned Dug in the soil; the fact that said soil covered a lot of him didn't make finding him any easier. But when she finally reached out with the force she suddenly knew where he was. Careful not to step on freshly planted seed Ananké strolled over to her best friend.

"Hey."

He looked up and fathomless black eyes met her own. Suddenly a wide, toothy smile appeared on his horse-like face.

"Didn't think I'd see you again."

His small, thin body was deceptive, he had muscles like steel-wires and the reaction time of a Jedi. Like all Dugs. Ananké hadn't been joking when she had told Thrawn that he would be able to protect her.

"Yeah, I'm back. But there's the little problem of an imperial agent trying to get my head on a platter. First I almost killed her and then I saved her life, I'm not exactly sure which of the two she's madder about."

Ob Khaddar clicked and stomped something in his native language that didn't sound exactly polite.

"Just let her come. She won't get past me. I'm not the sportiest of us Dugs, but I'm still way quicker than humans. No offence."

"Non taken. I've seen you in action far too often."

Ob gave some kind of shrug.

"It's hardly my fault if these core-world idiots think I'm small and helpless."

"Well, you can't really blame them. The Empire frowns upon schools that teach about other races than humans. But it's fun to see their faces if when you sit on their chests in five seconds flat pulling their ears and clicking at them."

The toothy grin was back. Ob was rather mild tempered, but since he _was_ a Dug that was only relative.

"What are you working at?"

"Well, I guess if I can tell anyone, it's you. The Emperor is due to visit in two weeks, so the government thought that somebody should make a grass painting in his honour. I applied, and since I'm the best who applied, I was chosen to do it."

Ananké blinked.

"You? You are making a grass painting in Palpatine's honour?"

Ob did some mischievous sounding clicking.

"Ah, but do you see these," he held up some seeds, a strange looking action, since Dugs had hands and feet reversed, "they will only need one week to grow and will bloom for two. They are for the face and the hood. And these," he held up different seeds, "will take the same time to grow but last only for one week; they are for his eyes. And last but not least, these black lilies here open after two weeks. Do you understand?"

"I think so. You want the painting to change the day the Emperor arrives. And black lilies... Ob! You wouldn't dare!"

"To paint him exactly how he's like? I would and I did."

"Are you suicidal?"

He snorted.

"Hardly. I made arrangements with some smugglers to hide me."

Ananké rolled her eyes.

"And do you really think that scum will keep you hidden when the Emperor puts an astronomical bounty on your head? How can you be so stupid?"

Ob let his face droop sheepishly.

"Oops. Didn't think…"

Ananké was on a roll now.

"No you didn't! You hardly ever do! You and your nerf-brained schemes, always getting yourself into trouble! And I'm always the one who has to save your skinny ass!"

"Hey, what are friends for?"

Ananké narrowed her eyes and growled. Ob Khaddar sighed.

"I'm sorry. I just was so excited about my plan…"

"… that you didn't think about the consequences properly. Oh well, I might know someone who might help. We can't let him know the whole truth though. He is an Imperial Admiral after all."

"You know an Imperial Admiral?"

Ananké just shook her head.

"Long story, I'll tell you later. Now go back to planting your seeds, the sooner you're finished, the sooner you can go and hide. I'll go and test the waters with Thrawn."

"You really should reconsider your choice in friends."

The little artist turned around quickly but didn't seem surprised to see him. It hadn't been difficult to find her, Thrawn just had to fly to the place from which she had painted most of her landscapes. He had thought that it was very likely that she would return there to think, and he had been right. He sat down in the grass in front of her.

"I'm starting to see what you mean," she sighed.

"I studied his works. Ob Khaddar is extremely talented, if a little misguided," Thrawn said with a smile.

"Misguided in which way?"

"He's telling the truth as he sees it, never caring how dangerous that could be."

"Tell me about it," Ananké said sarcastically.

"I take it this isn't the first ... ill-considered plan?"

"Hardly. What do you know about his plan anyway?"

"As I said, I studied his past works, found out what his current project was and came to the conclusion that he will be very likely in trouble. I'm curious, how did he think to escape?"

She sighed again.

"Since it won't make much of a difference, I might as well tell you. He hired some smugglers to get him away from Alderaan and hide him somewhere. But you can't rely on smugglers if your adversary has more money."

"So I suppose you want me to help him."

"Well, you hinted time and again that you didn't agree with the persecution of artists."

"Hm... perhaps. Well, in any case I think persecuting this fool would be a waste of recources. He may be rebellious, but he isn't a danger to the Empire. He will become one if we make a martyr out of him, so this should be avoided. If he's forced to stay in hiding by a bounty on his head he should stay quiet, and if he isn't persecuted by Imperial troops the Rebels won't care either. He'll simply be forgotten. I'll see to it that he's given a bit of a head start."

Ananké pressed her lips together and nodded. She seemed tense.

"I suppose you expected more," Thrawn asked with a raised eyebrow.

The little artist looked at him and shook her head.

"No. I was thinking about something else. Giving Ob some breathing space is all that's needed; Dugs are survivors."

"Do you think he'll return to Malastaire?"

"No. He isn't exactly liked there. He's kind-hearted and can get quite philosophical. If you know Dugs in general you can tell that he's rather unusual."

They sat for a while watching the sun set in a riot of colours. Something had happened to Ananké. She had seemed so exuberant when they had arrived on Alderaan, but now she seemed dejected – no, apprehensive. Maybe she was afraid of going back to Coruscant?

"You should return to Imperial Center as soon as possible. I was informed that Mara Jade returned to duty this morning. She is on the way to her next assignment now, but she might plan on coming to find you first."

"Oh."

Thrawn stood; he had enough of her moodiness.

"Contact me when you are ready."

"I will, thank you."

He left her sitting in her favourite spot of nowhere. All things considered, everything was falling into place quite nicely.

A/N: Hello, sorry to have kept you all waiting, but I hope you liked it anyway. Neila, you're my hero (give Rin my regards, her input was most valuable)


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Her return to Coruscant was surprisingly anticlimactic, Ananké mused, watching the crowd from her place at a window. Ob's prank had hit the Emperor where it hurt most, good thing that the Dug had already left by then. The whole valley had been burned to destroy the heretic image of His Majesty who was now back in his cavernous palace sulking. Jade was gone and Vader seemed to busy to waste his time on her, which was just fine with Ananké. Tarkin was constantly brooding over his pet project, the Death Star, and didn't bother her much either. Whenever he did, she used her visits to relay messages between Ackbar and Princess Leia.

Therana was back, her parents were urging her to find a fitting husband, so Ananké accompanied her to a few parties, like today, the birthday of one of her many acquaintances. Most of the time she withdrew to her atelier to paint. She had started another Lyrill Mistweaver cycle, in which the mischievous spirit tried to help a pair of lovers. Winter had agreed to model for her, which gave them a lot of opportunities to exchange news.

There was however another person who had seemed to have remembered her just as the Emperor's interest in her seemed to fade – Prince Xizor was again trying to get her attention.

Speaking of which.

„Ah, you are the most beautiful woman in this room by far, dear Ananké."

Creepy old lizard.

„Am I."

„Certainly. But we don't see enough of you, my dear."

This smell ... Ananké took a step backwards to the open window.

„Well, I'm busy. A new mythology cycle and a few other projects, you know."

He took a step closer.

„My cousin will exhibit them soon, I hope? Or maybe I could convince you to let me have a look at them privately?"

Over his dead body maybe.

„No, I don't like people to look at my paintings when they are unfinished."

Not exactly true but as good an excuse as any.

Xizor nodded earnestly.

„I understand. But at least allow me to present you with a little token of my admiration," he said producing a little box.

Ananké opened it. Inside, nestled into white silk was a comb. It was made of silver and encrusted with magnificent Corusca stones.

„I had it made for you. The stones reminded me of your beauty, precious and captivating, yet cold and unreachable."

Did this man practise saying those lines in front of a mirror? Oh damn, sneaky, sneaky creature, his skin wasn't emerald anymore, it was almost reddish...

„May I," he whispered into her hair. When had he moved to stand behind her? Suddenly she felt his hands gliding up her neck to tangle in her hairdo. Now why didn't she like him again? These shivers he was sending down her back were delicious...

Oh wait... this smell... smell... pheromones... her thoughts hurried, triggered the Force, sent a message to her friend.

„Ananké? I'm so sorry I almost forgot you, but Dina has been to Kashyyyk last month and... Ananké?"

Ananké felt Xizor's mouth detach itself from her neck.

„Another time then," he whispered into her ear and moved away.

Coming out of her daze Ananké leaned out of the window and took a deep breath.

„Thanks Therana. Do you think I could bribe one of those underpaid scientists here to develop an antidote to these damn pheromones?"

„Maybe. But why would you want to? He's quite handsome, no?"

Ananké turned around and growled.

Therana took a step backwards and raised her hands in defence.

„Just joking. No honestly, frisky Falleen are a menace."

„You can say that out loud. What I don't understand is why he's chasing me like that. He could have women that are prettier than I."

Therana shrugged.

„Maybe he's so used to getting whatever he wants that he just can't bear to be brushed off for once."

„That's possible. How are things on the marriage front?"

Therana grimaced.

„Don't mention it. The only ones my parents would accept are high ranking officers who are ambitious and loyal to the Emperor. And at least twice as old as I am."

„Poor girl. At least Tarkin leaves this part of my life well alone. He wants to see me tomorrow, I suspect he's leaving for the Outer Rim for a while."

"Ah, Ananké. Have a seat."

"Thank you."

They were back in the luxurious office, the one where Tarkin had yelled at her because of her contact to Thrawn. Things had changed since then. And she was still not sure if she had done the right thing. Tarkin would be ambushed by the Rebellion, would very likely be captured or killed. But the Death Star could not be allowed to exist, even if this would cost the life of her last living relative. But was there anything that justified the murder of one's father? Not that he'd been a good father so far, but she would never get another chance of maybe changing him. Making him see the monstrosity of his deeds.

"Ananké, you seem to be preoccupied with something."

"Oh, just worried about Jade," she hurriedly lied.

"This matter must be taken care of soon. You cannot spend your whole life running away from her."

"No, I suppose I can't."

What would her mother have done? She had spent the rest of her life running and hiding from the fiend that her father had become. But she had been responsible for an infant.

"I've been thinking of your future. The rebellion will be quashed soon and the Empire can return to peace. Maybe I could obtain a teaching post in the arts department of our academy here on Coruscant. You could continue your training then too."

Teaching? Under the direct view of the Emperor and his restrictive censuring laws? No way. If the attack on Tarkin's convoy succeeded, she'd disappear. Yes, it was time to make plans for that.

"Was that your idea?"

"No, Admiral Thrawn thought it would be a waste of your talents if you stopped being an artist. Well, whatever I may think about him in other regards, this is a field he's knowledgeable in, I suppose."

Now those two must have gotten awfully chummy then. Good thing she had never completely trusted Thrawn.

"I think we won't see each other for a while, I have to return to the Rim to finish an extremely important project for the Emperor. Lord Vader will follow shortly, I recommend you continue practising so you will be ready once he returns. Oh, and I wouldn't return to Alderaan in the meantime if I were you, Jade has been sent there to inspect the dismantled defences."

That vile person on her home planet? Hopefully she wouldn't find out about her ties to Estiphe Cheroder.

"When will you leave?"

Tarkin checked his chrono.

"In a few hours. I just wanted to say goodbye to you."

So this was it then. She got up as he walked over to her and was astonished when he gave her an awkward hug and kissed her forehead. He had never done that before.

"Please be careful, Ananké, try not to get into trouble, and please do not alienate powerful people."

Ananké half expected him to admonish her to always brush her teeth. She swallowed. This almost felt like family. She had to remember what he'd done to innocent people, had to remember that he was a monster. Or she would go mad with guilt.

"Take care ... father."

He smiled and nodded and Ananké left the room.

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. This is the carnival! I've heard that even Thrawn is going."

Therana huffed when her friend only rolled her eyes.

"Do you miss your father so much that you won't even have some fun while he's away?"

Now that ought to get a reaction.

"Certainly not! I just don't feel like partying. Besides Xizor will be there too. And don't want to get sprayed with pheromones this soon again."

Therana just grinned and fluttered her eyelashes.

"Oh, I'm sure Admiral Thrawn would be glad to defend your honour..."

Ananké snorted and gave her arm a playful slap.

"You are such an airhead."

"...after spending this romantic holiday with you on Alderaan," Therana continued simpering as if Ananké hadn't spoken.

"Oh this is ridiculous, would you please stop?"

But Therana wasn't finished yet.

"Not to forget that he escorted you there on his flagship and has recently come to an understanding with your father. It all adds up. Conclusion: you must go to the Carnival or you won't be able to announce your engagement."

Therana looked at her friend with an evil grin. Ananké looked decidedly peaky.

"Please tell me that you made this all up and that these things aren't actually floating around as rumours."

"Sorry, but they do. I overheard two court-ladies talking. You know they all have the most terrible crushes on him. They are so envious! I've even heard that several of them have started painting in Alderaanian style to get his attention."

Ananké looked at her trying to decide if she was about to laugh or about to be sick.

"Precisely. If you don't show up this whole thing will be blown out of proportion."

"All right. You convinced me. Let's go find a costume."

Therana beamed.

"That's my girl!"

The cavernous room was filled with people, all in more or less ridiculous costumes. The little artist had decided on a historical gown and a silver mask that covered her eyes. Her empty-headed friend looked like a bird of sorts, well, that fit her intellectual capacities and her multicoloured hair. She had left the young Alderaanian to talk to a group of friends.

Thrawn really wished that he wouldn't have to waste his time with that sort of nonsense. But in the Empire everything was about appearances. His Majesty loved giving huge celebrations in his own honour, even if he almost never attended. Maybe he was interested in the gossip. He looked at the strategically placed spy-droids, disguised as decorations. Of course everybody in the room knew what they were, but pretended not to.

Prince Xizor had again sneaked up on Ananké, whose eyes were already glazing over. He sighed. Might as well go and rescue her. If she landed in the bed of this particular alien Tarkin would not be amused. And that would disturb his plans. A razor thin smile appeared on his face when he went to greet the leader of the Black Sun.

"Prince Xizor, a moment of your time."

"Ah, admiral, a pleasure to see you. Your message has been related and answered. I must commend you on your ability to inspire loyalty in your troops."

"Thank you. May I offer some advice?"

Xizor raised an eyebrow.

"Concerning my little Alderaanian beauty perhaps? Rumour has it that you want her for yourself."

Thrawn smirked.

"Hardly. But she is one of the few people on this planet who have a true understanding of art."

"Ah yes, there is that. But her connections..."

"You may want to be careful. Tarkin is in the Rim at the moment, but that doesn't mean that he's not still watching her."

"Ah, my friend, I'm afraid you just don't understand the compulsion of passion. Alas, I desire her, I can't help it."

Thrawn had a hard time believing that.

"Besides, Tarkin won't be a problem much longer. And in that event my little beauty will need a protector. And who to protect her better than one of the four most powerful men in the galaxy? She is very intelligent. She will see the situation as it is and give in to me. But don't worry, you'll still be able to talk about art with her, I'll see to that, my friend. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a business-partner waiting for me at my skyhook."

Thrawn watched the Falleen's retreating back. Now that could only mean trouble. What was this slippery lizard planning?

A sudden commotion made him look to his left. The little artist was curled up on the floor silently convulsing, her face a mask of pain. Her colourful friend knelt beside her, stroking her shoulder and looking around the room frantically. He quickly made his way through the crowd.

He knelt down beside the young woman and felt her pulse. It was slow but steady. The convulsions had stopped but she hadn't regained her consciousness.

"Did she eat or drink anything, Miss..."

"Iskranfe. Therana Iskranfe. No, she didn't."

"Hm, it's unlikely that she's been poisoned then. We'd better get her home, I don't trust the palace medics."

"All right."

Thrawn lifted her from the floor and carried her to Therana's glider.

After Therana had punched in the code Ananké's door opened and he could carry her to the bedroom where he left her to the tender mercies of her friend.

Therana came out of Ananké's bedroom a few minutes later. Her face was deathly pale.

"She's sleeping now. Would you mind staying with her? My parents ordered me home and won't take no for an answer."

"And what has made your return to your parents so dire?"

Therana let out a sob and wiped at a tear with a shivering hand.

"Alderaan has been destroyed."


	11. Chapter 10

A.N.: Sorry for leaving you all hanging! My life just jumped to fast forward during the last months… all right, Neila, my beta, my hero: thanks for staying with me. Next chappie is almost written :o) my wonderful reviewers: thank you for taking the time to give encouragement to me.

Chapter 10

Ananké was completely disoriented when she woke up. Looking around she discovered that she was lying in her own bed. How had she gotten here? And what was Thrawn doing beside her bed on a chair? Images were tumbling through her head and she felt faintly sick.

"I hope you are feeling better," he said, his cultured voice sounding vaguely concerned.

Ananké got up slowly.

"I think so, yes. Just a bit dizzy still. What happened?"

"You collapsed at the ball."

"Oh yes, now I remember." She had felt a wave of panic and then a terrible pain that hadn't been her own. And she had heard people scream. No, not only people, animals, plants, even the earth itself. And when it suddenly had stopped all that was left was emptiness, a sudden vacuum that was threatening to draw her in. That was the last thing she remembered before everything went black.

Thrawn got up too and led her back to the living room.

"Please sit down, I have some grave news for you."

Ananké's stomach gave a lurch and she decided that it would be better to follow his suggestion.

"I checked the Holo-News while you were resting. The Death Star destroyed a planet."

Ananké felt her blood rush from her face.

"Alderaan," she whispered.

Thrawn averted his eyes and nodded.

Suddenly Ananké felt as if she had left her body, sounds and images barely reached her senses. Like in trance she moved to her atelier, gathered some brushes, paint and an empty canvas and started.

Again she saw the kaleidoscope of images that sorted itself into one picture, which she painted. Images of death and pain flashed across the insides of her eyelids and she watched as everything she loved died before her very eyes. Again felt the destruction of every living thing on her home planet all the souls disappearing. Again felt something in her own soul die.

The canvas were covered in a swirl of dark colours forming a swamp in which a white Thranta was drowning, small, all to human looking eyes desperately looking at the sky which was exploding in a riot of poisonous looking green.

"Dangerous."

Ananké jumped and dropped her brush. She had completely forgotten that Thrawn was with her.

"Dangerous, how?"

"I have the feeling that many people will see Alderaan as a symbol for martyrdom now. I think that the Emperor has made a mistake in suggesting to Tarkin to destroy the planet. Imperial propaganda usually vilifies the rebellion, painting them as murderers and monsters."

Ananké raised her eyebrows.

"You don't think so?"

"No, definitely not, I see them as they are. A group of people who are at odds with the current government and seek the power to rule the galaxy themselves. But I think the Emperor makes mistakes in dealing with them, as I constantly try to tell him. We should try to give our citizens no reason to listen to them, but killing a whole planet of respected people will make that a bit difficult."

Ananké shuddered at the pleasantness of his tone as he spoke about the death of her planet. Her family. Estiphe was dead.

She clenched her hands together and bit her lip as she rose from her stool.

"Admiral please excuse me, but I would like some time alone now to mourn my loved ones."

His scarlet eyes met her greyish ones and seemed to burn through them directly into her mind.

"I hope you do know what you are doing, Miss Inverres. If we meet again it might be on less than friendly terms and I'm bound to do my duty. So you might want to see to it that we don't."

Ananké just nodded tersely and Thrawn left without another word.

Sinking back onto her stool Ananké covered her face in her hands and wept. How could her father have done something like that?

Alderaan. The home planet of the woman he supposedly loved. She had seen his reaction to her portrait and had started to hope. Why couldn't he just have left them alone? So many innocent people condemned to a death in green fire because they wanted freedom. Was that too much to ask? To be able to think and speak one's mind? So many lives sacrificed on the altar of the Emperor's self-glorification. Wasted. Some of the brightest lights of the galaxy forever snuffed out.

She would never be able to bury her face in the fragrant grass again. Would never again lie on her back and watch the clouds and Thrantas go by. Would never again have a lively dispute with her teachers. Would never again give Estiphe a hug and tell her about her adventures or listen to her rant on about what idiots some of the other politicians were being.

After a while Ananké raised her head and looked around. This place, this planet was making her sick. She just had to leave for the sake of her own sanity.

Vaguely she remembered the Alderaanian Orchid-Fern in her father's office. Was that the only specimen left? Perhaps. Maybe she should try to … liberate it.

------

Yes, this was perfect. A little yacht, nothing flashy. It reminded her a little of a Thranta with its bulbous centre and wing-like extensions.

The sky couldn't be seen; the merchant resided in one of the more seedy areas of Coruscant and was non-human, as were many if the people living in these parts of the monstrous city. Another indicator of how unjust this so-called perfect system was. The higher levels were almost devoid of non humans, the only ones that were there were those considered useful, people who tried to make the Emperor forget that they were not human by selling others as slaves, or, like the Twi'lek even sold their own. She couldn't tell where the merchant came from, he had four arms and a tail, two huge teeth sticking out of his mouth from the middle of his lower jaw that were almost touching his nose.

"So how will you pay for this little beauty?" he asked in his coarse, heavily accented voice.

Ananké pulled out the comb Prince Xizor had given her.

"Will this suffice?"

The merchant took it from her and examined it.

"These are real Corusca stones! And this quality… dearie, for this comb I'll change converters and polish the ship with my toothbrush!"

Ananké took the comb back.

"You do that. How long will you need?"

A huge grin spread over the salesman's face.

"I'll be done in two days."

Ananké nodded.

"Good. And perhaps this ship has never even been here…"

The grin got even wider.

"I understand, dearie, a lot of your folks are leaving. Can understand though, if they'd done that to my home planet… well, don't worry about a thing, all will be ready in two days."

Ananké offered a tight-lipped smile and left.

Therana was waiting for her when she came home.

"Oh Ananké, I was absolutely shocked when I heard… what are you going to do now? If there's anything I can do to help…"

"No, no. I'll be fine. And you?"

"My parents will retreat to our home at the Rim for a while until the chaos has died down. They're afraid my big mouth will get me into trouble."

Ananké gave her friend half a grin.

"Yeah, I can understand that worry."

Therana clutched at her heart and pretended to fall back into the couch.

"I'm wounded where I stand. But seriously, what's going to happen to you?"

Ananké sighed and sat down beside her friend.

"Perhaps it's better if you don't know. I don't want you to get into trouble because of me."

Therana's eyes became as wide as saucers.

"You mean you are going to join… _them_?"

Ananké snorted.

"Sith, no. Do you really think the Rebellion wants anything to do with the daughter of the monster who blew up the planet that was their proverbial heart?"

"Oh, right. So what else is there?"

"As I said, it's better if you don't know. Perhaps you should make yourself scarce too, I mean, I'll be a wanted woman soon, and I think that your door will be the first one they'll knock at since you're my best friend. And I don't think that the rank of your parents will keep them from extracting information in a rather … impolite way. Thrawn hinted that things might get unpleasant."

"Can't you take me with you? Please? You said that I might be in danger."

"Therana, this isn't a game."

"I'm bloody aware of that! My parents can look out for themselves, I think, but that doesn't mean that I'll be safe. Especially my mother would have no qualms if it came to sacrificing me to save her own ass."

Ananké still wasn't convinced.

"I'm good with computers, you know. I've always been hacking into the traffic control systems when they had caught me speeding to erase the proof…"

"Well, if you go back to your parents you might be in danger. But if you come with me you sure as hell will be."

"But I still feel safer with you. I mean, you are the daughter of a Manaan Cave-Shark and a Jedi. You can survive anything."

"Well, your confidence is heart-warming, but…"

"Ananké, please?"

"Oh, well. Go pack."

"No need. I already made a big withdrawal from my account; I can buy anything we need on the way. Wherever we are going."

"You had this all planned out, did you?"

"You bet."

Ananké just shook her head. Maybe the future wouldn't be as grim as it had looked moments ago.


	12. Chapter 11

Title: Magnificent Shades Of Grey

Author: sleepyowlet

Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. I'm not making any profit.

Babblerama: I haven't abandoned this fic, I'm just restructuring what's going to happen, since I lost all my notes on it. Progress will be really slow. Filler chapter ahead. Sorry.

Chapter 11

Therana waited until the computer had calculated the jump to Tattooine and activated the hyper-drive. Ananké knew nothing about the Rim, but she had seen many worlds there before her parents had decided to relocate her to Coruscant.

Tattooine was a good place to start. Many people who were sought by the Empire lived there and were relatively safe. Relatively so, because the Empire had no influence there, but the planet was controlled by the Hutt syndicate. And Hutts were just as dangerous as the Empire.

But they wouldn't be interested in two fugitives.

It would be an adventure. Her parents had never allowed her to do or be anything special, they only wanted her to do things they considered proper. She had been a bargaining chip, supposed to marry someone influential to make her family more powerful. Quite resigned to her fate, she had limited her rebellion to her outrageous hair-colours and had pretended to be pretty but vapid. Nobody wanted a wife smarter than them, after all.

And then she had met Ananké.

An artist. An intellectual. An extremely sensitive, timid woman prone to blushing and stuttering fits. But with a core of steel, at least it seemed that way to Therana. Who else could survive the top agents of the Empire, endure the destruction of ones beloved home planet, and still have the strength to move on, make plans and carry them out?

Not many, Therana was sure of that.

The object of her contemplation chose that moment to enter the cockpit.

"So we're on our way," Ananké said, and sat down in the co-pilot's chair.

"Yep, no turning back now," Therana answered with a wry smile.

"I've been thinking. Perhaps it would be better to change our names. This won't mislead a bounty-hunter for long, but it might give us an edge, if not every merchant knows who we really are."

"Yes, this might be a good idea. I could call myself Uuta Spinner. Country bumpkin name, and I can speak the accent pretty well. But you won't come across as anything other than Alderaani. Too much poise."

Ananké just shrugged.

"There are names that are common on Alderaan… were common on Alderaan. And with so many people unaccounted for, nobody will be able to check. I'll think of something."

Therana nodded and stayed silent.

"So, anything I should know about Tattooine?"

Therana shrugged.

"It's a dirt-ball with almost no water but more than enough criminals. The only halfway decent people there are the moisture farmers, but trust me, you don't want to live that kind of life. Civilisation, or whatever passes as such in that place, is limited to a few towns and settlements. The wastelands are ruled by the Tusken, who are nomads and extremely nasty. Nobody knows what they really look like, they are covered with some sort of bandages from head to toe. They ride on big, furry things called Banthas."

"Sounds like paradise," Ananké muttered sarcastically.

"Well, the Empire is almost non-existent there, so it must be."

"Good point."

...

Ananké had difficulties to decide if Tattooine was better or worse than Coruscant. On the one hand it was definitely more alive than the overcrowded capital planet of the Empire, on the other hand it was definitely less civilized. Not that it was a planet without history (that it definitely was, some settlements dated way back to before the Mandalorian wars, and there were mysterious ruins that were thousands of years older than that, erected by a lost civilisation that had left its marks over many planets of the known galaxy) but it was very run down. Everybody scavenged the remains of better days to make their lives a bit more comfortable and nobody thought of forming a working community where people helped one another. But she strongly suspected that was at least in part due to Jabba the Hutt who wanted to rule unimpeded and therefore played as many people as possible against each other to prevent them from uniting and moving against him.

On Coruscant she had missed the sun that she had taken for granted on Alderaan; here she missed the water. Showers were a luxury on Tattooine, baths were not to be had. And the sand was practically everywhere, in the clothes, in the food and in her hair. A few days after their arrival on this Force-forsaken dust-ball Ananké had paid one of the local women to put her hair into myriads of tiny braids to keep it manageable. It made her look rather savage. All the better to blend in, she thought.

The Holo-News had a lot to say about the destruction of a huge space station and the man who had been in charge of it - it hadn't taken Ananké a second to understand that this had been the Death-Star. She was glad that this monstrosity had been blown out of existence; although she felt a little sad that her father had died with it. Now she would never have the chance to maybe change him. But that chance had been minuscule from the beginning.

They were sitting in Ananké's cabin having tea after checking the _Thranta_; you could never be too careful on this planet. They had decided to live on their ship to keep an eye on it – and to save money.

"So what do we do now?"

Therana shrugged.

"Our combined money will last us for a while. But we should try to find a way to earn some – we don't know how long we'll have to stay hidden."

"Neither of us is good at flying. We can start, plot a course and land – but as soon as we're caught in a space battle, we're toast," Ananké sighed.

"We'll have to find a pilot then. But I think we'll have a bounty on our heads soon; it will be difficult to find someone we can trust."

"So we just start and hope for the best? Perhaps we can get a few low-level jobs from the Alliance; you know, ship people and things from one planet to another."

"That might be an idea. But how do we contact them?"

Ananké hesitated a little. Therana was her friend, right? The Force usually warned her if someone was untrustworthy.

"I can contact Princess Leia's aide, Winter."

"The one who modelled for you?"

"Yes. She's part of the Alliance. You see – that the Death Star has been destroyed is partly my fault... I gave them the information that it existed and the date and route of Tarkin's convoy."

Therana's eyes became as big as saucers.

"You...you did? But he was your father!"

Ananké pressed her lips together and looked away.

"I know. But I didn't have a choice. If I hadn't said anything, the Death Star would have destroyed even more worlds. I had to do it."

"Yes, I see your point."

A part of her suspected that Tarkin had guessed who was responsible for the ambush on his convoy; that perhaps the destruction of her home-planet was an act of revenge against her. But even if it was, she didn't regret anything. So many more people would feel like she felt... Ananké tried her best to hide her pain from Therana, but in the dark hours of the night she curled up in her bunk and cried for her dead home, for all the things that were lost forever. Sometimes she went out into the desert to scream her pain at the stars and to let her fury run free where it couldn't hurt anyone. She was vaguely aware that she'd better meditate about it than crushing rocks and such; but that was for later; the pain was too raw yet.

...

The white-haired woman looked around. Nar Shadda wasn't the most wholesome place in the galaxy (far from it), but the Empire didn't bother with the small moon orbiting Nal Hutta much; the Hutts made sure of that. It was the perfect meeting-place.

Winter hadn't been surprised to hear from Ananké so soon. Many people from Alderaan chose to join the rebellion after the destruction of their home-world. It was however a surprise that she didn't want to join – at least not officially. Her friend was another matter though; Therana Iskranfe seemed trustworthy enough and was a talented slicer. She'd be a good addition to Intel.

There they were. She looked briefly into Ananké's eyes and saw the pain in them that she knew was reflected in her own. No words were necessary.

Therana Iskranfe was smiling, her eyes lit up at the promise of adventure.

"So you'd be interested in transporting goods and passengers for the alliance."

Ananké nodded.

"But you don't want to join us," Winter added.

"No. I don't think my family-connections could be kept under wraps for long, if I officially joined you. I don't want everybody pointing at me."

Winter sighed. Unfortunate, but understandable.

"Very well. We need help moving our base from Yavin to its new destination. We will trust you with it because of the help you've already given us. Admiral Ackbar sends his greetings by the way."

Ananké smiled.

"I'm glad he made it. How is he?"

"Just fine. He's got a brilliant mind, and he's one of the most honourable people I've met."

That meant something coming from her – unlike other people Winter remembered literally every single person she'd ever met.

"Yes, I know. It was terrible to see him as a slave."

Ananké's pale blue eyes grew haunted, and Winter decided to let the matter of her joining the Alliance drop for now; there would be many raised eyebrows, and certainly there would be enough people who'd give her trouble about her father – and that so soon after the loss of everything dear to her... No, that would only be cruel.

"He's offering you a place with his family on Calamari should you ever need it," she said, her voice deep and soothing.

"Hey, sounds good to me! Beach-holiday, sand, ocean, drinks with little umbrellas in them..."

Therana of course, Winter couldn't suppress a grin at the young woman's antics. She had leaned back in her chair, her face turned upward as if to catch warm sun rays, her ugly mug of caffa elegantly suspended in her right hand like a delicate cocktail glass.

"All right, so it's Yavin. The conditions," asked Ananké.

"Nine-hundred credits for every successful run. It's not much, but we can't afford more," Winter answered, hoping that she'd agree. It was enough to cover fuel and docking fees as well as moderate living expenses, but it could hardly be called a profit.

"No, that's all right. We're not trying to get rich, we're just trying to get by," Therana joked.

"Good. We'll meet on Yavin 5 then."

They said their good-byes and made for their respective transports.

...

Yavin was beautiful. Only a few signs of a lost civilisation peeked through the endless green of the jungle-moon; the huge pyramid like temples dated back to the times of Exar-Kun and before. In one of them was the Rebel Base that was now being moved to a snowball of a planet in the Hoth system. That was at least what some of the rebels said who had already been there.

Ananké left it to Therana to organize things and busied herself with her ship. She'd done some serious thinking during the trip. If Therana made friends with those people, she might consider joining them; that would really be for the best. If she was caught by the Empire or some bounty hunter, at least Therana wouldn't be with her.

...

Therana was in heaven. Yavin's jungles reminded her a little of her home-world Duxun. Winter had introduced her to a few of their slicers who had some much appreciated down-time as their equipment was being dismantled. A few of them were like her; rich kids who had had everything but had chafed at the imperial restrictions made to learning and living. They had wanted to get out and wanted to make a difference – just what Therana had discovered about herself too. Others were non humans who had faced a future without chances due to the racism that arose with the Empire. The leader of the section was an Ithorian who had once taught cryptology at the University of Coruscant. He was quite sad that the base had to be moved, like most of his people he loved plants and wildlife. His ideas about codes had been revolutionary and the Empire still used his work in the present time, but of course without ever mentioning his name.

"D'you want another?"

Therana looked up.

"Yeah, why not," she said and held out her mug. Therana and some of the cryptologists were in the still standing part of the cantina, drinking and chatting like they had known each other for years.

"The last level three fleet code took us ages. But we've got some interesting things out of the messages once we decoded it it. There's a bounty out on your friend, in courtesy of the Emperor himself. What did she do?"

Therana looked at the young man sitting on the other side of the cantina table. Cas Ferguson seemed nice; and he was handsome in a distracted, nerdy kind of way.

"She... well, it's rather personal, I think... she wouldn't like it if I spread her story. It's hers to tell; if you want to know, just ask her."

"Aaaaw, come on. Give us a little something," one of the others chimed in.

"It had to do with the Death Star. She got some people high up mad at her because of it. But that's all I'm going to give you."

The motley crew around the table complained loudly but Therana was adamant and said nothing more about this topic. She felt like she had come home; so many people who cared nothing about where she came from or what her connections were; only her personality and her abilities mattered. She would love to stay – but could she leave Ananké out in the cold? It was with a heavy heart that she returned to the ship.

...

It went well – the Thranta was small and nondescript enough to slip through any security the Empire had put up, and usually hers and Therana's parts were quite low profile and not really dangerous. Ananké watched her friend closely. Her tendency to fidget had increased; she seemed conflicted and restless. She was about to crack. On their last visit to Hoth in the foreseeable future Ananké decided to take the initiative. They both sat in the little galley of their ship having tea.

"You'd like to stay."

Therana looked at her like a Nerf in headlights.

"Ananké.."

"You could, you know. It would be better even."

Therana blinked.

"How so?"

"This way at least one of us would be reasonably safe. And I could bet that the Imps are looking for us together. I t would be easier to give them the slip if we separate."

"And what will you do?"

Ananké shrugged.

"Find myself a co-pilot and continue."

"And if said co-pilot sells you out?"

"Said co-pilot won't know who I am. Stay with them, Therana. It's the right thing to do, and they need you."

"But if they catch you," Therana cried and got up to pace.

"Then I'll be alone. Better one of us than both of us; if they do succeed, there's nothing you or I can do about it, even if you were with me."

Therana stopped her pacing and looked at her friend.

"If you're sure. I hope you'll be safe."

Ananké raised one eyebrow.

"I'll do my best not to get myself blown up or caught, if you'll do the same."

The newest member of the Rebel Alliance grinned.

"Deal."


End file.
